


1692

by gwyllion



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M, Salem Witch Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-31
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-27 03:41:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 53
Words: 89,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/657647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyllion/pseuds/gwyllion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Salem witch trials of 1692 continue to horrify those who study American history.  From February to September, nearly 200 people were accused of witchcraft in Salem, Massachusetts.  Nineteen people were executed by hanging and one was pressed to death.  The accusations of witchcraft and subsequent torture to elicit confessions exacerbated the already difficult lives of the colonists.  Even the most physically fit and sound-minded of the Puritans waged a daily battle to cultivate enough food, protect themselves from Indian raids, and thwart challenges from England.  This work of fiction will explore colonial incarnations of Jack and Ennis.  The two outcasts, one posing as a clergyman, and the other as an accused witch, will strive to escape their plight and survive in the hostile environment of the New World.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A cry rang out in the square, the bleak sound flowing like swill in the gutters that drained the cobblestone streets of Salem Village. The noise sluiced along each alleyway, gaining momentum as it rushed by. Only one word was spoken. Carried atop the water, the call met with air, exploding through the commonwealth and penetrating every citizen’s core, filling the minds of the simple and eloquent with an unstoppable fear. 

Witch.

The voice cried, as the others had previously, during the month of June in the Year of our Lord, 1692. 

The crowd had gathered for the trial, spilling out of the town hall and lining Derby Street, waiting for the inevitable spectacle to begin. The clamoring throng craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the accused. If they were lucky, the heathen would be excised from their midst, and the pious could go about their business, free once more from the devil that had settled in their Puritan community.

The prisoner was led in shackles to the center of the square. Parents covered their children’s eyes as he passed. The older boys threw stones at the unfortunate one. When the guards led him to the platform, the magistrate took the stage. A husky fellow with a mop of white hair and beady eyes, he cleared his throat and read from the parchment. 

“Ennis Del Mar, you are hereby charged with the crime of practicing witchcraft within Massachusetts Bay Colony. How do you answer these charges?”

Ennis didn’t struggle against the tight leather cuffs. He wisely remained silent to avoid further punishment. The wiry bailiff jabbed a staff into his ribs, toothlessly smiling at his action. Ennis grunted in pain.

Ennis hadn’t done anything wrong. He was merely returning his landlord’s horse to the stable on an ordinary spring day. Nothing seemed different on this trip to the barn, when he heard the murmurs of a young man. Ennis was compelled to seek the source of the sound. A knothole in the pine provided him with an opportunity, and he peered through the opening into the adjacent stall. 

Ennis watched the parson’s son, a teen with pale white skin, writhing naked in the straw. The boy stroked himself lazily, moaning aloud, oblivious to Ennis’s company. Ennis reached into his trousers to grasp himself, noticing his own desire for a private moment of pleasure. When he returned his wandering eye to the knothole, he was shocked to see the boy’s own eye looking directly at him. It was then that the boy shrieked his accusation, the one word that would obtain him justice without calling his father’s attention to his own illicit activity. 

Witch.

Startled by the boy’s cry, Ennis’s charge bucked, a hoof striking Ennis sharply in his groin. He doubled over. The authorities found him the same way, collapsed on the floor of the stable, the boy still screaming the accusation that would bring Ennis certain death. 

“What is your plea?” the magistrate demanded. 

Ennis considered his circumstances. If he confessed, he would be hanged. If he declared his innocence, he would be tortured until he admitted guilt. He silently wondered whether it would be better to challenge the accuser and risk being drowned on the dunking chair, stretched on the rack, or crushed to death under the board. There was no easy escape.

“The accused refuses to plead his case,” shouted the bailiff.

“Bring forth the witness,” sighed the magistrate. 

“Joseph Chandler, come forward and make your claim,” said the bailiff.

Parson Chandler’s teenaged son approached the dais.

“It was him!” the pale youth pointed an outstretched finger at Ennis. 

The crowd gasped. 

“Are you certain, Master Chandler?” asked the magistrate. 

“He is the one! He put a spell on me!”

“God have mercy on his soul!” a voice erupted in the crowd as Parson Chandler pushed his way to the front. He approached Ennis and regarded him from a cautious distance, his hands clasped behind his back. 

“If it pleases the court, it is known that a witch bears the mark of the devil. Has anyone yet examined the accused for the existence of such a mark?”

A negative groan rose from the spectators. 

The bailiff approached Ennis and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. He tore the linen shirt downward, ripping the fabric and sending the clasps flying in all directions. Because of his thin nature, the shirt became untucked, Ennis’s trousers sliding low on his hips without the material of the shirt to fill the void between skin and cloth. 

“There it is!” a voice shouted from the crowd.

The mark was visible to all, a red and purple crescent, low on Ennis’s abdomen where his hair thickened, the mark that Ennis knew was caused by the hoof strike. 

“Call Inquisitor Proctor!”

Proctor, a gaunt man with close-set eyes approached Ennis. He held the sharp prick in his hand, already anticipating its necessity today. He bent toward the mark and the guards tightened their grip. Without warning, the inquisitor plunged the point of the prick into Ennis’s bruised skin. Ennis knew that if he could remain quiet and endure this pain, he could avoid further torture by the inquisitor. The pricking did not elicit a response. 

“It is now proven that there is a witch in our midst,” called the magistrate. “The accused is sentenced to hang tomorrow upon Gallows Hill.”

The crowd cheered, and Ennis was led to the stocks where he would be held until daybreak. As the villagers left the square, they stopped to ridicule Ennis, throwing stones or giving him a strong kick in the groin. 

Through the afternoon, Ennis resigned himself to his wretched fate. He had no family here to help him. His parents were long dead, killed when their cart of goods overturned when Ennis was just a boy. His older brother and sister had sought their fortunes in different villages, far from Salem. His spirits rose when he saw the young woman he had been courting, approach the stocks.

“Alma,” he whispered in pain.

“Ennis,” she replied.

“Please help me?”

“I can’t. Not without risking my own life. I just came here to see the fiend I almost married.”

“I never meant to hurt you.”

“I will be fortunate to not be killed, since you have consorted with the devil,” she sobbed.

“Alma, whatever happens, please, know that this is not your fault.”

“You should have thought about that while you were practicing your sinful acts.” With that, Alma spat in Ennis’s face and scurried from the square. 

As the day lingered on, many passersby stopped to gawk at Ennis. He thought he knew most of the people from his village, but his eyes soon fell on a stranger wearing an oversized cloak and stout black boots. The stranger was in the company of Reverend Cheever, who appeared to be showing the man around.

“I was a young boy when the Torsaker witch trial took place in my own country,” said the stranger.

“I have read about the day when your people eradicated the witches from your midst,” nodded Cheever.

“It is well that you deal with the heretics in your own manner, instead of the mass beheading and burning. It seems fair to everyone involved.”

“I am gladdened that you arrived in time to see our justice at work,” Cheever smiled.

“I am fortunate to have located your shores in the darkness of the night,” the stranger laughed.

“You must be exhausted after your long journey. Please take your rest in my quarters, Reverend Gyllenhaal.”

“I am quite tired. It was a long swim to shore after my ship sank, and I have not slept well since. I appreciate the hospitality your people have shown me. God be with you all.”

The two wandered past Ennis and entered the parsonage next to the church. The sun had set over the town hall and cast the evening shadows over the square. Few people visited now, and Ennis contemplated his plight. His long fingers could almost reach the latch that secured the stocks around his neck and hands. The fact that he could almost reach, seemed a cruel torture itself.

As darkness fell, the vacant square grew quiet. Only the sweep of the wind off the harbor whispered, causing debris to collect against the base of the brick buildings. From somewhere in the shadows, heavy boots approached the stocks. 

Ennis tried to turn his head to see, but the footsteps came from behind. They stopped and Ennis could hear nervous breathing. He could feel the heat of the body that stood near.

“The wind blows softly from the water tonight,” the voice said casually.

“Who are you?”

“You saw me earlier today in the square.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I think that we have something in common, Ennis.”

“We have nothing in common. Have you come to kill me already?”

“I am not here to kill you. I can help you.”

“By kicking me or spitting upon me, as so many have made their sport today?

“I mean you no harm. According to my people, I am a criminal just like you.”

“I’ve committed no crime.”

“Nor have I, unless you consider taking the only rowboat from my countrymen’s ship while it sank in the harbor the night before last.”

“Your crime has nothing to do with me.”

“Like me, you are innocent. And, like me, you are in need of help.”

“You may have caused the untimely deaths of your countrymen, but I have not yet had the opportunity.”

“Ennis, soon the authorities will discover the bodies washed ashore, or they will receive word from a harbor island, that I am not Reverend Gyllenhaal, but Jack Twist, a prisoner from their ship. You are familiar with these lands. I am only here to ask for your help in return for saving you from the gallows.”

“Like everything in the life I have lived thus far, I don’t see how I have any other choice.”

“The choice is clear then, Ennis,” said Jack, as he unfastened Ennis’s hands and neck from the stock. “We need to run.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“The choice is clear then, Ennis,” said Jack, as he unfastened Ennis’s hands and neck from the stock. “We need to run.”_

“Stop,” Ennis whispered urgently.

“Come now, let’s go,” Jack lifted the top piece of wood from the frame with one hand. The creaking hinge whined into the darkness of the Derby Street square. 

“No, stop!”

“What are you waiting for?” Jack squinted, his eyes asking more than his words. With his free hand, Jack turned his palm upward and lifted his own fingers against Ennis’s that stretched out, exhausted and crippled, from his trapped hands. Their skin touched and with the shock of warmth meeting cold, both men became aware of the force that held them together in this very spot. They worked against each other, Jack lifting upward and Ennis pressing down. No matter how he tried, Jack’s attempt to pry Ennis’s hands from the stocks was futile. 

Ennis held his wrists fast against the wood. “I told you to stop,” he repeated. 

“What do you mean? Are you half-witted?” Jack asked with a smirk. He tried to pull Ennis away from the contraption, but the resolute man would not budge.

Ennis squirmed from Jack’s grip and remained stock still. His arms and shoulders screamed with desire for freedom, but like two pious palms pressed together in prayer, he forced his wrists down into the splintered wooden grooves and held them there as firmly as he could. 

“You are likely to get us both killed if you try to free me when others may still be about,” Ennis charged through clenched teeth. 

Jack dropped the wooden yoke so it pinned Ennis’s neck and hands again. He replied in measured tones, “But this is the darkest the square will be, since tonight’s full moon is on the rise. Come with me now, and recommend a safe hiding place, or hang on the gallows in the morning.”

“If we are caught now, our fates will be worse than hanging. We will have our tongues ripped out, or be put into the iron maiden. They already believe I am performing the work of the devil.” He winced in pain from the reintroduction of his inner wrists to the wood. He had almost sighed with pleasure when the sting was alleviated momentarily by Jack lifting the yoke, allowing Ennis to raise his wrists to inadvertently inspect the torn flesh that had scraped against the wood with each kick today. The fair skin looked as raw as a chunk of horsemeat and the blood had blossomed onto the dry wood. 

“You are not a witch Ennis, any more than I am. There is no such thing as the black magic they fear.”

“Well, that is truly unfortunate,” Ennis spoke from his captive position. 

“What do you mean?” Jack asked with a scowl.

“If you were a witch, perhaps you could conjure up a plan for our escape that didn’t involve bloodletting,” Ennis managed a smile, despite his discomfort. 

Jack stepped back, black bootheels clicking on the cobblestone. “Well, maybe I will,” he said, nodding approvingly. “Although I am not a witch, I am pretty good with conjuring plans, as you may learn for yourself, if we manage to escape.”

“We may escape, but we will need provisions. We cannot simply leave into the night with nothing but the shirts on our backs. The angry townspeople will be giving chase the moment they realize I am free. We need to hide until it is safe to travel to another village without suspicion being aroused, but to succeed, we will certainly need supplies."

“Yes… supplies,” Jack pondered. “And from the look of you, new clothing will be the highest priority. You cannot leave with only the shirt on your back, when it is no longer much of a shirt at all.”

Jack reached behind Ennis, his hands grasping the dragging edge of what was once Ennis’s shirt. The rag had trailed behind Ennis where the bailiff had left it hanging early in his ordeal. Jack lifted the hem and draped the fabric across Ennis’s shoulders. 

Ennis sensed the fabric against his back. He felt the coolness where the afternoon sun had burned his skin to bright red. Jack’s long fingers tucked the material that was once the shirt collar between the wooden stock frame and Ennis’s bony shoulders. A soothing hand ran down Ennis’s back.

“Tell you what,” Jack said, stepping around to face Ennis again. “I will search the parsonage. As long as Reverend Cheever is still asleep, I should be able to gather some useful items. I trust that you have a place in mind where we will be able to go?”

“I can think of a place that is not very far from here. I don’t think anyone will find us there.”

“Alright, then. I shall return before the moon can fully illuminate the square. Wait here.”

Ennis looked at Jack, his mouth open and his nose wrinkled. In his present position, there was little else he could do, but wait for Jack to return. 

Jack’s footsteps faded into the alley. Ennis still could not imagine what he had done to deserve the fate that had befallen him this day. He had always thought that hard physical work ensured him a comfortable life. He never dreamed that he would be accused of witchcraft for a simple transgression. At least he wasn’t facing certain death now. Perhaps this Jack Twist, with his own need to escape, could free Ennis from the gallows and buy Ennis time so he could live among men again someday. 

Ennis supposed he should feel relieved. His eyelids slid closed. He allowed his head to droop lower in the neck opening of the stocks. He imagined the place to which he would lead Jack. Although he hadn’t been there since he was a young boy, he remembered the green meadows and clear flowing brook. His mind drifted. Ennis thought of the many glades and caves that could be used as a hiding place, at least temporarily. If they left soon, they would arrive there safely, well before morning. 

Thwk, thwk, thwk. Ennis was startled awake by the strange sound. 

He listened closely.

Thwk, thwk, thwk. It sounded like gnawing. 

Ennis tried to determine the direction from which the sound came. Being immobilized, he could not tell. 

Thwk, thwk, thwk. 

“Uhh!” he exclaimed as he felt the tiny claws pierce through his trousers. Ennis kicked his legs and shook his torso trying to loosen the offending creature’s grip. The ache from the inquisitor’s prick and the horse’s kick hurt all the more with his writhing. 

He felt the creature climb all the way to his shoulder. He was grateful that Jack had covered him with his tattered shirt. Perhaps it would offer him some protection from the sharp claws that stabbed his skin like tiny pins. The creature seemed to balance on two hind legs before Ennis felt an abrupt increase in pressure, then suddenly, nothing at all. The creature had leaped onto the top of the stocks and was now face to face with Ennis. 

Ennis regarded the black beady eyes and sleek dark fur. The long scaly tail curled like a whip. Ennis tried blowing on the rat. He did not want to make any noise. He tried spitting at it. He dared not call attention to himself now, with his escape plan formulated, and his partner almost ready to implement the plan with him.

Without warning, the rat leaped onto Ennis’s head and began to gnaw and dig at his curly hair. Ennis cringed at the sensation of the rat’s claws gripping and sifting through the blonde strands. Surely, this rat would be the end of Ennis’s hope to live.

Thwoff! Ennis felt the blow that sent the rat flying down to the cobblestone. The vile rodent squeaked loudly and scurried away. 

“Sorry it took me so long,” whispered Jack. 

“Well, you came just in time,” Ennis replied.

“That critter will not bother you again,” Jack smiled. He placed a large bundle and some loose fabric items on the ground next to the stocks. 

He spoke quickly as he released the latch that held the top board of the stocks in place. “I have brought a large sheet of oilcloth.”

Jack lifted the top board, freeing Ennis’s neck and hands. He spoke while he worked, “I have a knife… a cookpot… a flint... ”

Ennis nodded in agreement. 

“Several other items that will be useful, I can’t remember everything I grabbed. I simply took what I thought we might need.”

The wood was swung away. Ennis lifted his head and stretched his neck, touching an ear to his shoulder on each side. He had stood in the same position for so long this day, his whole body ached. He could barely bring himself to tear his hands from the stocks. The dried blood had sealed the gap between his wrists and the wood. 

“Alright, let me help you now,” Jack said, placing his hands atop Ennis’s wrists. He gently coaxed the wrists from side to side, quite unlike the forced lifting motion he had used earlier. 

Ennis held his breath. 

“You will soon be free, Ennis,” said Jack.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Ennis breathed as the skin was torn from the wood. Ennis examined his bleeding wrists.

“Don’t thank me yet friend, we still have a long way to go,” Jack thumped Ennis on the back. “Oh, here, I have brought you a shirt.”

Ennis quickly shucked the old rag from his back and donned the new shirt, fastening it with buttons of the finest bone. 

“And I brought this for you, as well,” Jack said, producing a short dun-colored cloak. 

“Sorry, it was all I could find that might serve you in cooler weather.” 

“Well, I like the color,” Ennis smiled, admiring his new clothing. “I feel strange wearing the clothing of a wealthy man.”

“It suits you, Ennis. Come, we must leave before the moon shines brightly into the square. Let’s go.”

Jack shouldered the bundle of supplies, and both men disappeared into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

_Jack shouldered the bundle of supplies, and both men disappeared into the night,_ quietly wending their way from the square. With Ennis in the lead, and Jack close on his heels, they stuck to the uninhabited trails where there was little likelihood of being seen. The full moon lit the dirt path and reflected off the roofs of distant shadowy cottages. 

They hadn’t gotten very far, when Ennis realized that he was having trouble walking. The injury to his groin from the horse, and the stab from the inquisitor, had him favoring one side. His back and neck ached from being hunched over all day. But, worse than any of the pain, his arms had developed a maddening habit of their own. 

Since Ennis had spent the better part of the day locked in the confines of the wooden stocks, his arms now betrayed him. No matter how hard he tried to keep them at his sides, the numb appendages floated into the air. He felt ridiculous with them outstretched, so he tried to make them behave normally, rolling his shoulders, swinging his limbs at his side with each limping step. But, as soon as he stopped focusing his attention on them, his arms would float upward again. 

“It is a good thing no one can see you walking like that, Ennis,” Jack quipped. 

“What?” Ennis grumbled.

“Strangers may think I am preparing you for crucifixion,” he laughed as Ennis’s uncontrollable arms remained outstretched.

“I suppose crucifixion might be worse than hanging,” Ennis sullenly replied.

“Maybe someone will peer out their window and believe you need help. Perhaps they will come to your rescue, pummeling me for torturing an upstanding citizen of Salem Village.”

“Do you think they would view you as the more dishonest of us two?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack thoughtfully. “I only arrived on your shores yesterday, but I have traveled enough to know the ways of men. The people of Salem did not seem to treat you with fairness, but I think that they would believe your word over mine.”

“You’re a stranger to everyone here. Tell me more about your shipwreck. Which land did you sail from?”

Jack reminisced as they walked along. “I found work on a Scandinavian ship that left Britain in late March. We sailed to Spain and then south to the Canaries.”

“Canaries?” asked Ennis, who now alternated his arm positions so that they slowly floated up and down as he walked, his cloak outstretched like wings.

“Yes, islands in the eastern ocean. We crossed the Atlantic there, and arrived in the West Indies to take on more provisions before we made the trip to Boston.”

“Is that where your ship sank?” 

“It sank north of Boston, near the island of Misery… Ennis, you look like a butterfly with your wings opening and closing like that,” Jack laughed as he ran ahead flapping his own cloaked arms in the air, still clutching the bundle of supplies under one arm.

“Are you making fun of me?” asked Ennis, insulted.

“Oh, no, I would never do such a thing,” Jack rested his hand on Ennis’s shoulder. “Not to the fine man who is saving me.”

“It’s driving me mad. As much as I try to keep my arms still, they want to rise up again,” Ennis lamented.

“Well, we are truly fortunate to be alone then, lest a spectator think you mad, and demand you be put in the stocks again.”

Ennis tried to keep his arms down, but it felt better if he allowed them to alternate between positions, so he continued to flutter as they walked the silent path. Fortunately, Jack hadn’t obtained so many supplies that he needed Ennis’s help to carry them, because the task would have been impossible. 

By the moon’s light, they made their way toward the main thoroughfare of Boston Street. 

“We need to turn north here,” said Ennis. “After we travel a short distance, we can turn into the open woodlands.”

Jack felt fortunate that Ennis knew the area well. He followed him into the middle hours of the night. He wondered whether anyone was awake at this hour. All it would take was one person’s restless sleep for them to be discovered and reported to the authorities. They passed stately homes with fashionable red clapboard siding. Somewhere outside a barn, a dog barked. 

Jack’s concern that they might be seen was soon realized when a woman leaned out of a second story window and proceeded to empty the contents of a chamber pot onto the walkway. From his position behind Ennis, Jack could see what was about to happen, and anticipated the outcome. He flung himself forward, catching Ennis’s butterfly wings and pushing him out of the way of the shower. 

Ennis was startled when Jack’s arms suddenly slid along his own, forcing them downward and shoving his body against a wooden doorframe. He certainly did not expect to be in the direct line of the spillage. The contents of the chamber pot splattered onto the ground, exactly where Ennis would have passed by, if not for Jack hauling him out of the way. 

“That was a close call, friend,” Jack whispered into Ennis’s ear, his grip urging Ennis’s arms to behave.

“Thanks,” Ennis breathed.

“Shhh… Let’s wait to make sure she has not seen us.”

The men waited quietly for a moment. Jack’s hands remained clasped to Ennis’s forearms, keeping him still and silent. The only noise was that of their own gasping breath as it escaped through parted lips, fear- their shared companion. 

When they were certain that the woman had left the window, they moved on, escaping unseen down the road that led from Boston to the northern shores, turning into the woods again when they neared the base of Gallows Hill. 

The moon illuminated the hanging trees near the summit, and the sparkling dew covered grass. Less than one week ago, Bridget Bishop had been hanged to death here. The empty noose shuddered in the breeze. The men passed nervously, keeping to the cart path that surrounded the low hill. 

“I cannot understand why you would bring us this way, Ennis,” remarked Jack. “Doesn’t it make you uneasy?”

“This is the best route to the hiding place I know.”

“Still,” Jack shivered. “To think that you were destined to hang in the morning, on this very hill.” 

“I’d rather not think about it.”

“If you believe it is safe to pass by, let’s go quickly.”

“It was safe when my brother and I hunted and fished here when we were young, but now the woods are stained with the blood of the accused.”

“I know all too well what will become of your homeland because of these accusations, Ennis. Your fond memories will die, and you will seek a new place to call your home.”

“Perhaps you are right. There will be more hangings soon. Many people are imprisoned in Boston for the crime of heresy,” Ennis sighed. 

“There’s nothing we can do, since we are both wanted men.”

Ennis said little else as they circled the hill, striking off northward again, leaving the hanging place to vanish on the moonlit horizon. 

The terrain became rough as they walked through fields that soon became dotted with open hardwood. As the canopy thickened, the way became more difficult to see. The moon strained through the leaves and cast golden shapes on the forest floor. Soon they entered a patch of thick scrub where Ennis’s arms reluctantly acquiesced to their natural position. 

Far from any street or path, the men spoke in natural tones, Ennis cautioning Jack about a loose rock, or warning him that a branch was about to whip back to where he waited for Ennis to pick his way through the dense growth.

Jack estimated that they had traveled a few miles from the center of the village. Soon it would be morning, and both men were in need of rest. 

“Just a bit further,” said Ennis when they crossed a swift flowing stream. 

Jack took care to step on the same large rocks in the streambed where Ennis had placed his feet. When both men had crossed, Ennis pointed ahead to a small knoll. 

“We can camp over there.” 

“Good work, Ennis. I doubt anyone will find us here, unless the Indians discover us.”

On the other side of the knoll, Jack dropped his bundle onto the damp grass. He undid the twine he had used to tie the package, sealing the contents inside the oilcloth. 

Ennis stretched his arms overhead, looking on, curious about what Jack had deemed necessary to bring for supplies. He noticed that Jack had filled a sizeable cookpot with the items. The oilcloth had simply been wrapped around the pot and tied. 

“Help me unfurl this, so we may have a dry place to rest,” said Jack.

Ennis helped pull the oilcloth to its full length and breadth. There was plenty of room for two men to lie upon it side by side, and the fabric was ample enough that it could be folded to cover them in cold or foul weather. 

Jack grabbed a flask and filled it from the stream. “You must be starving, Ennis,” he called as he huffed his way up the hill. 

“Yes, I haven’t eaten since morning.”

“I packed a loaf of bread and some butter.” Jack took the loaf from the cookpot, tore of a hunk and passed it to Ennis. He then unfolded the butter from its cloth, and they took turns smearing it on the bread, washing it down with shared gulps from the flask. 

They devoured the loaf and fell exhausted to their bed, the cloth stained by years of use, cushioned by the tangle of scrub beneath. Jack pulled a corner of the cloth up to their necks, protecting them from the dew that might still fall in the night.

“Thank you for helping me, Ennis,” he sighed.

“Sleep well,” Ennis whispered in reply.

Although the night soon ended with the rising of the sun, they slept in silence until Ennis awoke screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

_Although the night soon ended with the rising of the sun, they slept in silence until Ennis awoke screaming._

Jack had forgotten that he lay asleep at Ennis’s side. He had welcomed the dreamless slumber that he had enjoyed thus far, lulled into drowsiness by the steady breath of his companion. But now, he sprang to his knees, worried that Ennis’s cries would be heard by Indians, Reverend Gyllenhaal’s shipwrecked crew, or the angry villagers who demanded his friend’s execution. 

“Ennis! Ennis, what’s wrong?” 

Ennis writhed in pain, his arms contorted, shoulder blades practically touching each other, visible even through the covering of the new shirt Jack had provided. 

“Oh, God! Make it go away!” Ennis shrieked.

Ennis staggered to his feet. Now his arms were in the air, palms to the sky, a look of agony on his face. 

“It’s a stitch!” he blurted out.

Jack recognized the problem, stood, and placed his hands on Ennis’s upper back. 

“Quiet, Ennis. Let me help you,” Jack said over the man’s increasing groans of discomfort.

“Help! I’m dying!” Ennis yelled.

“You must be quiet! You’ve got a bad cramp,” Jack said, applying pressure to Ennis’s neck and shoulders with his palms, sensing the pain. “Shhh… you’ve got to settle down.”

The injured man whimpered and moaned. Jack’s able hands kneaded the taut muscles that had woven themselves into a knot while Ennis had slept.

Ennis dropped to his knees and Jack followed him to the ground, continuing to grasp and release the muscle and flesh until Ennis’s back grew soft and yielding. 

“Oh, that’s so much better,” moaned Ennis in time to the rhythm of Jack’s hands. 

“Here, lie down.”

Ennis complied, and lay on his stomach, Jack’s hands still roaming hard over his back. Ennis’s breath became even and relaxed. His arms sank into the oilcloth cushioned by the branches of scrubby plant life underneath. Jack’s palms skimmed the surface of Ennis’s shoulders and neck, the urgency of his companion’s discomfort no longer a grave concern. 

“Don’t stop.”

“Shhh… try to sleep. You need your rest.”

Ennis relaxed while Jack continued his ministrations. Before long, the trials of the previous day caught up to Ennis’s exhausted body and sleep claimed him again. 

Jack willed his fingers to stop their stroking. He settled back onto the oilcloth, next to the sleeping man. His choice of a villager to assist him in his own quest for safety could not have been wiser. A smile crossed his lips. He covered Ennis’s shoulders with the excess oilcloth and rolled to his back. 

Jack took in his surroundings for the first time in the bright daylight that had filled their camp. From his position next to Ennis, he could hear the twittering of birds as they flitted from tree to tree, as well as the gurgle of the rushing stream that flowed at the base of the knoll where they had spent the night. The sun warmed their tarpaulin, drying any dew drops that the evening air had deposited. 

Jack turned his head to the side and observed Ennis as he slept. Lying on his stomach with his cloak as a pillow beneath his head, he looked peaceful now. 

The sun shone on his hair, making the curls come alive with streaks of color. His mouth relaxed in a dream. His eyelids closed over deep brown eyes that Jack had first noticed yesterday when he was tethered in the stocks.

_So much panic, for only a cramp. He has been kicked by a horse, jabbed with the sharp prick, sentenced to hang, but he is completely undone by a simple cramp that awakens him. It must have been very painful._

Jack smiled in amusement. 

_He let me touch him. Let me stroke his back. Let me ease his pain. It felt…_

Jack turned onto his back again, covering his eyes with a forearm. _No, no, no! I have finally arrived in the New World. I will have no more thoughts of what it would be like to... Only the future lies ahead now. I don’t want any trouble like what I suffered on the ship. It’s time to put that part of the past behind me and get settled here. There are too many other things to be concerned with at the moment. This is the land of freedom, and perhaps, for once, I will have a chance to be free._

He rubbed his fingers over the indentation of his left arm. They dipped into the groove and soothed the damaged muscle and flesh. The disquieting touch made him think of his mother. But, then, he always remembered his mother, and admired her fortitude when the road was paved with challenges like they were for him now that he needed to avoid capture and punishment. 

He stared at the green canopy of leaves overhead, the sun streaming through onto his face. He and Ennis seemed to be well hidden in the dense forest. He thought it unlikely that he would fall asleep under the sun’s brilliant glare, so he decided to move about, performing some of the chores that awaited completion. 

Careful not to wake Ennis, he rose from the oilcloth and quietly rummaged through the cookpot that he had packed with supplies. He found the spool of twine from which he had cut the length to tie his bundle the previous evening. Most of the roll remained, and he believed that he could put it to good use immediately. 

Unsheathing the knife from its scabbard, he measured out three arm lengths of the twine and cut it from the roll. A nearby outcropping of rock beckoned him to sit, so he wandered down the knoll, lazily stepping across the pine duff as he walked to the place where he could sit and work comfortably. 

He used the knife to pick at the twine, separating a thin strand from the length. Pulling the single strand free, he worked to untangle it from the rest of the rope. The two pieces of twine twisted and curled back on itself, only to be separated again until they could be held each in a different hand. Satisfied with his line, he rolled the larger breadth of twine around the spool and placed the thin strand between his teeth. Finding that he needed more items from his cache of supplies, he walked back up the hill. 

He knelt by the cookpot and sifted through the various items he had stolen. First he removed a handkerchief square of linen and laid it flat on the corner of the oilcloth. He withdrew some of the objects from the pot, searching for one thing in particular, placing items atop the cloth sheet as he hunted; the remaining slab of butter wrapped in cheesecloth, a pouch containing five guineas, a carved wooden recorder, a tinderbox with its flint and steel, the stubs of two candles, and finally the fish hooks he sought. 

The hooks were old and worn, their points equally dull. He had found them by chance when he looked for supplies in the parsonage after leaving Ennis in the stocks. He had felt the pressure of time working against him as he removed the copper pot from the kitchen and filled it with as much as he could carry. His decisions had to be made quickly. He regretted that he couldn’t bring more food. But, he could only bring what he, alone, could carry, Ennis being somewhat incapacitated. With years of experience surviving on his own, Jack thought he had done fairly well deciding which to items to take and which items to leave behind. 

He regarded the sharpest fish hook, twirling the shank between his thumb and forefinger. Removing the single strand of twine from between his teeth, he threaded the line through the eye. He tied it off, and carefully coiled the line and stuffed it into his pocket. 

The forest floor was strewn with branches. He didn’t have to wander far before locating one that would make a suitable fishing rod. He brought the stick to his sitting place and went to work stripping the bark with his knife. 

He wondered how long it would be before the townspeople mounted a search for the so-called Reverend Gyllenhaal. They had probably been looking for Ennis since dawn. Would they assume that the men were together? And what about the fate of his crewmates that swam for their lives, when he escaped and washed up on the shores of Salem Harbor? If the true Reverend Gyllenhaal had been able to swim to dry land, perhaps the sympathetic inhabitants of Salem Village knew by now that Jack had been an imposter. 

He carved a handle into the fishing rod and gouged a shallow groove to guide his line. The rushing water from the stream played tricks with Jack’s mind as he worked. Each stone that turned over sounded like a shout, each splash- the sound of musket fire or the barking of dogs. He imagined the villagers looking everywhere, including seaward, searching for Ennis’s route of escape. Instead they might find Jack’s surviving crewmates, or even Reverend Gyllenhaal himself, standing on deck, his hair both fair and thick, steel blue eyes fierce with anger, clenching his fists, demanding that Jack be killed. He was probably devising some method of torture for Jack to first endure. Such was the treatment of people who were unlike the others. 

Jack could not remember a time in his life when he hadn’t felt different. As a child, he had known that his mother, with her dark hair like his, had arrived in Sweden as a young girl. Her own family had been driven from their homeland in the south. Scattered among the homes of generous peasants, Jack’s mother and her siblings assimilated into the communities where they were accepted, although the stigma of being from a different land, and not possessing the flaxen hair of the Swedes, always marked them as strangers. Sometimes it was enough to sentence them to death. 

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, sending a jolt of fear through his body.


	5. Chapter 5

_Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder, sending a jolt of fear through his body._

Jack looked up and sighed, “Ennis! You scared me half to death!”

“Mmm… sorry, about that,” Ennis stretched and yawned. He hadn’t meant to spook him. He simply wanted Jack to know that he was awake, watching what he was doing.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Jack said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Ennis said, taking notice of the man’s brilliant blue eyes for the first time. He had never seen them in the sunlight before. His own eyes lowered as if he had something more to say, but couldn’t quite verbalize it while locked onto the other man. “I want to thank you… for helping me out last night,” finally tumbled out. 

“It was nothing,” Jack said. “You would have done the same for me if I was suffering like that. How are your shoulders feeling today?”

“Better, now that I have slept… and with the comfort you provided.” Ennis looked away, more interested in the pine needles at his feet.

“Look, I made this while you were sleeping.” Jack held the staff up, his right hand firm around the handle he had carved. I think we will be able to catch some fish using this.” 

“Let’s see,” Ennis took the rod from Jack, and considered it. 

“I have long heard tales of how the streams of the New World teem with fish. So much that, even the most inexperienced of anglers can’t help but catch a meal.” 

“That may be true,” Ennis passed the stripped sapling back to Jack, but kept the angled hook pinched between his fingers. He stepped back, the thin thread connecting him to Jack, who held the rod by its handle again. “You’ve done a fine job preparing this. Let’s test it out.”

“We can, but first I must warn you- I have never fished before.” 

Ennis laughed in disbelief. “Surely you are playing tricks on me. Never fished before? Come now!”

Ennis started to walk downhill to the stream, still with the hook in his hand. “I am no expert at fishing, but I would have thought that you, with all your experience afloat, would certainly be a skilled fisherman. Have you really never cast a line?”

“No,” said Jack, following down the hill. “In my position on the ship, I wasn’t given the opportunity to fish… and besides, the ship’s crew used nets. Trawling for fish is hardly a job that one man could master for his solitary efforts.”

At the water’s edge, Ennis ran his right hand along the length of the line. “This looks good, but you will need a thicker piece of twine. It won’t be difficult to adjust it.”

“So, how do we begin? I’m starving!”

“We also need to make a fly.”

“What will we use? I thought we should have saved some bread from last night to use as bait.”

“Too late for that now,” said Ennis. “Besides, everyone knows that proper fly for June is the dun cut.”

“Dun cut? What is that?” 

Ennis hunted around in the duff, using his boot to turn up the pine needles and soil. “The body needs to be black, preferably wool.”

“Not going to find any wool on the ground.”

“No, but I have some lint from my pocket, and we can find something yellowish to serve as the body’s sides. The wings can be constructed and bound with the very twine you thought to bring.” 

Ennis finally found a small pine cone and stripped it apart, one scale at a time, until he found a scale that was sufficiently yellow in color. 

“Jack?”

Jack had been watching Ennis work, fascinated by the process of constructing the appropriate fly.

“Jack? Your name is Jack? Isn’t it?”

“Oh, yes, sorry,” Jack laughed. “Is there something I can do?”

Ennis chuckled at Jack’s obsession with the work. “Do you have any more of this twine?”

“Oh yes, I’ll get the spool.” Jack trudged up the hill and returned with the twine. 

Ennis accepted the spool and unwound a strand. Jack quickly provided the knife, continuing to watch while Ennis constructed a fly from the pine debris, lint, and the twine.

“Here, hold this tight between your thumb and fingernail,” Ennis instructed.

“Like this?” Jack pinched the angle by the eye.

“Yes.” Ennis worked, unfurling a thin strand of twine. “When I was a boy, my brother and I did a lot of fishing. Our father considered it a necessary skill for a colonist. He always figured that the streams were so full of fish, if we knew how to use them, we would never go hungry.”

“Your family, they live elsewhere?” Jack asked.

“My brother and sister settled in the north, near Newburyport.” Ennis tied the twine to the eye, adjusting Jack’s fingers in their hold. “My parents were killed in an accident when I was fourteen years old.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Ennis,” Jack placed his left hand on Ennis’s shoulder, still watching the fly construction. “How did it happen?”

“One stone on the road in the forty-three miles between the Merrimack River and Boston… they hit it.”

A silence ensued while Ennis wound the twine around the lint.

“I know what it is like to live without the support of your parents. It’s not easy,” Jack said.

“No,” Ennis sighed, and cut the yellow pine scale in half with the knife. “I think that when we are certain that the villagers are not on their way to kill us, I would like to stay with my brother in the north.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, perhaps I can try to salvage what is left of my life, there with him and my sister, my only living family.” Ennis attached the yellow pine to the fly, winding several loops of twine to hold it in place. 

“But first, we should venture further away from Salem Village. We can travel to the northwest, passing through the hunting grounds of Indian country. We can live off the land until we are certain that we are not being pursued. Then, I can work my way eastward toward my family. What are your plans?” 

Jack stuttered, “I think perhaps once the coast is clear, I will seek employment on a ship as a free man.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

“There are trade ships that travel to the south when the weather is fair, perhaps I will seek my fortune there.”

“You enjoy the hot weather I have heard about?” Ennis asked, as he fashioned the wings onto the fly.

“Oh, yes, I would have stayed there when I passed through, only I was a captive, with no companion like you.” 

“Hmm.” Ennis finished off the fly, winding the thin twine around the angle and tying it off. 

“Now for your first casting lesson,” Ennis said with a flourish.

The men walked downstream to where deep pools had formed. They could see the shadowy bodies of trout that darted in and out of the submerged boulders. 

“Here, watch me first,” Ennis said. He tied the fly to the end of the twine and fed the length through the crook at the end of the rod. With a broad arm movement he cast the line so that it flew through the air. He waved the rod, and the line reacted, feeding out twine, like a slithering snake above the placid water. The fly landed several yards offshore. Ennis gently brought the fly in, curling the wet line onto the ground next to him. 

“Let me try,” Jack said. Ennis handed over the rod. He watched Jack fling the fly above the water. His expression turned grave, when upon waving the rod, the hook swung back and lodged firmly into the front of Jack’s linen shirt. 

“Nice try,” said Ennis, smiling brightly.

“Sorry!”

“You’re right. You aren’t much of a fisherman.” He took hold of Jack’s shirt front, and despite the shaky breaths of both men’s laughter, he managed to carefully free the hook. “Let’s try it this way.”

Ennis moved behind Jack and held the rod in his right hand. He brought his free hand to Jack’s waist, spreading his fingers over the fabric, moving him into place. The skin beneath Jack’s shirt was warm, and Ennis could feel the firmness of the muscle and the strength of the heart that beat a thumb’s length away. A silence descended over the stream bank, as he placed the rod in Jack’s hand and wrapped his own fingers around Jack’s. 

Ennis took a deep breath and pressed his chest against Jack’s back. He held his breath at the sensation, but proceeded with the instruction at hand. Jack didn’t move, his right hand trapped beneath Ennis’s, his left hand floating in the air, Ennis’s chin pressed into the crook between his neck and his right shoulder. Ennis moved his wrist, taking Jack’s along with it, bringing his arm back, flicking the line higher and higher, finally letting the fly drop to the water’s surface. 

“There,” he whispered, turning his head so the quiet words were in Jack’s ear. “Just like that.”

Jack remained still, barely breathing as Ennis turned his attention to the stream again, slowly dragging the fly across the top of the water.

“See,” Ennis murmured into Jack’s ear. They watched the trout swim up to the surface to investigate, Jack’s eyes deep in concentration, Ennis focused more on Jack, than the fish. Jack breathed deeply, the rushing sound catching Ennis off guard. Standing this close, he was able to feel his companion’s every movement, sense his every nuance. He smelled like the blue ocean air, or perhaps like the sky after the rain clouds had cleared. Why had he not noticed the effect the man had on him before? It would hardly take an effort to press his lips to his smooth neck or to let his tongue dance over the tiny moles beneath his ear.

There was only one thing stopping him. 

Ennis knew he would rather hang from the gallows, than feel the way he did about Jack Twist.


	6. Chapter 6

_Ennis knew he would rather hang from the gallows, than feel the way he did about Jack Twist._

Just then, the line dipped into the water.

“Whoa!” yelled Jack, almost knocking Ennis over when he lurched forward out of Ennis’s embrace. Ennis had been paying the line some attention and had seen the fish strike. He quickly worked to pull the length of twine to shore. Jack joined him in tugging, hand over hand, bringing the trout closer. Soon, the fish dangled above solid ground. It was a beauty, at least a foot long, with meaty sides that curled and flexed in protest of its capture. 

“I’ll grab the pot,” Jack said. “We can keep him in the water until we’re ready to cook.” 

“Go ahead,” Ennis called, as Jack hurried up the hill. He then turned his attention to detaching the fish from the hook and fly, salvaging his creation for another attempt. His stomach rumbled at the thought of soon having a hot meal. 

Jack returned and dipped the pot into the stream to fill it halfway with water. The single fish wriggled out of Ennis’s hands and landed in the pot. For the rest of the afternoon, the men enjoyed easy conversation and took turns casting. When a dozen gleaming fish swam inside the pot, they carried the catch uphill to their camp. 

They wandered the forest, collecting downed branches for their fire, each depositing an armload of wood by the oilcloth before setting off in opposite directions to gather more. 

“Look what I found,” Ennis said, returning to the woodpile with a fistful of freshly uprooted plants.

“What are they?” Jack examined the white roots and long green leaves.

“Smell,” said Ennis, breaking a stalk apart and holding the plant to Jack’s nose.

“Garlic?”

“Ramps… they’re like onions.”

“Oh, now I smell it,” remembering the familiar aroma.

“It will flavor the fish.”

Jack gathered some duff and struck a spark to build the fire. He broke pieces off smaller sticks, adding them where he saw flame. Ennis chuckled as he watched him duck his head away from the smoke that seemed to follow him around, no matter from which angle he added kindling.

They each tended to their own tasks. Ennis cleaned the fish, filleting them into long boneless pieces and slicing the ramps into tiny white coins. 

In time, the coals were ready and Jack set the pot on the fire to warm it. He placed the remaining slab of butter in the pot, and tilted it from side to side to coat the bottom. 

Ennis added handfuls of wild onions that wilted into translucence, turning the air sweet. The fish followed. Ennis used a stick to keep the fillets moving in the onions and butter, while Jack kept the coals hot. 

When the fish was cooked, they tore into the meal provided by nature and their own wit, using bare hands to pick up the fish, the hot buttery juices running down their chins while they ate their fill. 

“Reckon we’ll have something to eat tomorrow,” Ennis said, noting that some fillets remained.

“We’ll probably regret using the last of the butter,” Jack said, licking his fingers. 

“True.” Ennis wrapped the fish in the fabric square, tying the four corners together to make a neat package. “We might need to hunt along the way, too.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “I’ll go rinse the pot. Should we keep the fish cool overnight?”

“I’ll bury it in the rocks down by the water, ought to be good enough.”

In the streambed, Ennis excavated an opening in the rocks. He watched Jack rinse the pot, taking time to scour the remaining butter and onion bits with a handful of gritty sand.

“Looks like a clear night,” said Jack, stopping to look skyward after rinsing the pot.

“Mmm, it does,” said Ennis. 

“Think I’ll take a swim,” said Jack, removing his boots and stripping off his socks and trousers. “I got fish juice all over me, should probably wash my shirt while I’m at it.” He dove into the deep pool. The living trout took notice, and scattered into the dark underwater crevices at the intrusion.

Ennis watched from the bank. Jack encouraged him to join in, splashing water and swimming around like a fool, still wearing his shirt.

“Thought you’d be tired of swimming after being shipwrecked,” Ennis laughed, pulling off his boots. 

“At least it made me a better swimmer,” Jack called back, now standing atop a boulder in the stream, the white cloth of his shirt clinging to his chest.

Ennis felt a shiver go through him. The sight of Jack with his wet shirt against his muscled chest, the smattering of hair visible through the fabric, nipples erect and straining in the chilled air, had sent Ennis into a panic. He didn’t want Jack to see what was soon becoming obvious. He turned his back and stripped off his own clothes, diving quickly into the cold water.

He shook the droplets out of his blond curls when his head emerged from the stream in time to see Jack peeling off his shirt, the uncooperative fabric sticking to his skin. He watched Jack give the shirt a rinse, wringing it out before spreading it on a flat rock to dry in the remaining afternoon sun. Ennis did the same with his own shirt. 

They floated in the water until their skin became wrinkled and their teeth chattered from the cold. Ennis warily made his way to shore, making certain he did not let his eyes wander toward his naked companion as he, too, emerged from the stream. Ennis used his hands to brush the water off his torso, thighs, and legs. He wasn’t sure what Jack did to dry off, but when he next looked at him, he noticed that he had donned his trousers and was carrying his shirt and boots back to the campsite. 

The sun was setting, so Ennis followed and dropped his boots beside the oilcloth. He draped his shirt on a low shrub.

“Should be dry by morning ,” Jack said, and left his own wet shirt next to Ennis’s. 

“I’m going to fill this again so we’ll have something to drink if we wake in the night,” Ennis said, taking the flask to the stream.

Jack settled himself on the oilcloth. Last night he was asleep on his feet, but tonight he was worried. Ennis had assured him that they needed to move, distancing themselves from the village. He arranged their bed, unfurling their cloaks to use as blankets. Since they were sleeping shirtless, they would be cold when the sun left the sky. 

He wondered if Reverend Gyllenhaal’s crew had reached Salem, or if the villagers were searching the forest for them. He worried because things seldom went smoothly for him. Ever since he was a child, he had been forced to make decisions that sometimes affected him in terrible ways. 

Since he had reached Salem Harbor’s islands, and swam to their earthen shores, he sensed his luck had changed. He hadn’t drowned. He had received hospitality from Reverend Cheever, although he had to deceive him to get it. He had helped Ennis escape his hanging, and they were now going to sleep with full bellies. He smiled with satisfaction and drew his cloak over him. 

When Ennis returned, he offered the flask to Jack, who sipped some water before handing the flask back. 

“You are too kind to me,” Jack said. 

Ennis dismissed this with a wave of his hand. “You underestimate your own worth. It was you who thought to bring the hooks and the twine so we could fish.”

“There was little to choose from,” Jack sighed. “I simply took what we needed.”

“Hmmm,” Ennis smiled.

“What?”

“Jack?”

“Yes?”

“Did I see a recorder among our supplies?”

“Um… yes?”

Ennis propped himself up on one elbow. “Can you tell me why we might need a musical instrument?” 

“Uh… we can use it for something?”

“Like what?”

“Perhaps a mallet to pound sticks into the ground?”

“Not likely,” Ennis laughed.

“Uh… I don’t know,” Jack laughed along. “I simply saw it there, and thought it could be useful.”

“To play a song, perhaps?”

“I’ll have to start practicing soon, because I don’t know how to play it. Do you?”

“No!”

Ennis settled back down into the oilcloth, but not before he spread his own cloak over both their bodies.

“When we awaken, we’ll pack up and head northwest,” Ennis said.

“We can’t forget to retrieve our fish.”

“No, I’ll remember it.

“What other foods will we eat?”

“All kinds of things… apples and strawberries, ramps and blueberries, and animals we’ll hunt.”

“What animals?”

“Oh, there’s turkey and deer-”

“How are we going to catch them? I didn’t bring a bow or a musket. I didn’t see anything like that at the parsonage.”

“Don’t worry. We’ll find fish almost anywhere we go,” Ennis yawned. 

“Maybe we can snare something with the twine?”

“Shhh, go to sleep.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

“Goodnight.”

As the night air cooled their bodies and a layer of dew descended from the heavens, they each sought the other’s warmth beneath the doubled thickness of the woolen cloaks.

Sometime near morning, Ennis awoke, his hand resting on the soft fur of Jack’s belly. The pull of his fingers through the silky hair intrigued him and sparked an ember of passion within his core. He wanted nothing more than to card his fingers through the softness and listen to his friend murmur in his half sleep. But, he knew this was wrong. He had been told so by his father, and proven so by the corpses as they swung from the hanging trees for crimes against the church. No matter how right this felt, Ennis knew it was not.

He heard the horse approach their camp. He opened his eyes and saw the man, his musket pointed in his direction. Ennis sat up, raised his hands in the air and said, “I am Ennis Del Mar, wanted for the crime of heresy in Salem Village. Take me back.”


	7. Chapter 7

_Ennis sat up, raised his hands in the air and said, “I am Ennis Del Mar, wanted for the crime of heresy in Salem Village. Take me back.”_

“Hold it right there, mister,” the toothless horseman barked. “How do I know you ain’t gonna put a spell on me? Don’t move a muscle!” The sinewy man’s beady black eyes bored into Ennis. Then, with a swivel of his head, he turned to Jack.

“You, there,” he hollered. “You!”

Jack stirred from a pleasant dream, unsure why he felt so warm. He heard the voices and rubbed his eyes open to the morning light, annoyed to be woken from his blissful sleep. 

“Huh? Ennis? What’s going on?” His feet scrambled against the oilcloth as he struggled to sit upright.

“Stay where you are, Jack. He hasn’t come for you,” Ennis said, his voice low, as though he were addressing Jack alone. “I’m the only criminal here.”

“What are you doing, Ennis? Have you gone mad?”

“Stay out of this, Jack!” shouted Ennis. “This is my battle to fight. Leave me be!”

Ennis rose to his feet and addressed his captor, “Come on then, take me back. I’ll face whatever punishment I deserve.”

Jack covered his eyes, “No, Ennis, don’t you see? They’ll kill you!”

“Stay right where you are,” spat the horseman, reaffirming his grip on the musket. Jack noticed that the man was missing a finger on his left hand and shuddered to think of the circumstances that led to the disability and the torture that Ennis or he might endure in captivity.

The man dismounted and grabbed a rope from the saddle. “You!” he motioned to Jack. “Bind his hands. And make sure you do it right. Don’t want him summoning the devil while we bring him back to town.”

Jack caught the coil of rope. He walked toward Ennis. “Give me your hands,” he whispered, his teeth clenched. “Put them in front of you, and for the love of God, don’t question it.”

Ennis silently did so, avoiding Jack’s eyes the whole time while his companion wove the rope around his wrists, tying it off when he reached the end. Satisfied that the knot was secure, Jack stepped back and shrugged.

“Gather up all this junk that you stole,” said the horseman. “Don’t wanna be leavin it in the woods when it can be used as evidence in your trial, Jack Twist.”

So, Jack’s question had been answered. His lie had been discovered. Someone from Reverend Gyllenhaal’s missing crew had swam ashore and revealed the truth to Reverend Cheever and the villagers. Jack was as good as dead- an escaped prisoner, the saboteur of the ship carrying Swedish nobility, aiding and abetting a heretic... actually, he was much worse than dead. He collected their stolen supplies, tossing the items one at a time into the cookpot.

The horseman dismounted from his large bay, keeping the musket ready to fire. He brought a second length of rope to Ennis.

“Don’t you pay no mind!” he snapped at Jack. “Just gonna get yer friend ready fer the trip. You’ll have yer turn next.”

With one hand, he threaded the rope through the open triangle of space between Ennis’s shirtless arms. He turned toward the horse, catching Jack’s eyes as he did. “I told you to keep to yerself!” he said, raising the musket one-handed to its firing position.

“Alright, alright,” Jack said, hands held high in surrender. “I’m doing what you asked. Don’t point that at me!”

The horseman lashed the other end of the rope through a loop in the saddle, the coarse length pulling Ennis toward the horse. He turned his attention away from his captives for a moment in order to tie the knot. That was all it took.

Jack flew through the air, swinging the recorder in an arc. The instrument landed with a crack, splitting the horseman’s skull, dropping him to the ground like an apple from a tree. Blood spattered across Jack’s naked chest and spread through the horseman’s graying hair.

The recorder fell out of Jack’s hand, landing on the ground with a thud. Jack grimaced and squinted his eyes shut against the pain. He cradled his aching wrist, holding it to his chest, supporting the stunned joint with his good hand.

“Damn it, Ennis! What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, not expecting any kind of sensible answer as he kicked the musket out of the horseman’s reach.

Jack next retrieved the knife from the cookpot and sliced through the rope while Ennis stared at his own bound hands.

“Run down to the stream and grab the fish. Here’s your shirt,” said Jack, tossing the garment that still hung clean on the shrub. “Hurry!” he smacked Ennis on the back, sending him lumbering down the hill.

Jack finished throwing their supplies into the pot. He thrust his arms through the sleeves of his own shirt without bothering to fasten the buttons. He stuffed the oilcloth tight into the pot so it covered their supplies and prevented them from spilling out. He then lashed the pot and the fishing rod to the horse’s saddle.

Ennis trudged up the hill with their only food in his hands. Jack took it from him and crammed it into the pot beneath the oilcloth. The horseman began to stir and groan, his fingers twisted, hands reaching to protect his bleeding head. Jack dove for the musket before the injured man saw that it was within his reach. He grasped the horse’s reins in one hand, stepped into the stirrup, and swung onto the animal’s back, repositioning the musket and training it on the horseman who now staggered to his feet.

“Let’s go!” he shouted to Ennis.

Ennis bowed his head. His shaking fingers worked to force each button through its hole, one at a time.

“Ennis!”

Ennis finished fastening the last of the buttons and turned toward the injured horseman.

“Ennis!” Jack shouted from the horse.

Ennis raised his head toward Jack. His eyes drifted open and made contact.

Jack’s eyes flashed fire. “Ennis,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s time to go.”

Jack braced himself with his thighs and removed his right foot from the stirrup. He extended his hand to Ennis.

“Come on, Ennis. It’s time.”

Jack’s eyes pleaded. A spark in his expression made something in Ennis bend. Jack would never know whether it was the memory of Alma’s spittle hitting his face, the sound of the stocks slamming shut with his death sentence, or the fresh moans of the anguished horseman, but it was enough to make Ennis realize that there were no second chances in this game. He reached for Jack’s outstretched hand.

Jack winced as Ennis grasped hold of his swollen wrist and stepped into the empty stirrup. He returned Ennis’s hard grip and heaved the man onto the horse behind him. With a smack of the reins and a dig of his heels, they were gone.

The bay kicked up a cloud of duff and pine needles as it galloped away, leaving the horseman lying in the dirt. Ennis wordlessly held onto Jack’s waist as the horse charged through empty misty meadows, past fields of golden hay and green grass.

The rhythmic pounding of hooves and Jack’s panting breath seem to fill the valley. Jack wrestled to keep the animal at a steady speed, carrying the men many miles from their lair. The villagers would never be able to catch up to them now.

Although he was relieved to have escaped, Jack’s anger simmered while they sped through a land of wooded hillocks and rivers full of gleaming trout.

With the sun overhead, Jack brought the horse to a halt near a clear flowing brook. Without waiting for the horse to come to a stop, he dismounted in a rage, leaving Ennis to hurtle forward, grabbing the horse’s neck to avoid a fall.

Jack took a wild kick at a clump of low vegetation. “Just what the hell were you thinking back there?”

Ennis regained some balance on the horse and slid to the ground, eyes fixed on his feet.

“Answer me, Ennis! What were you doing? Do you know how close we came to being dragged back to the village and killed?”

Ennis said nothing.

“Look at me! I’m speaking to you! We came all this way, did all these things to escape, and you were ready to go back to the gallows? For what?

Ennis closed his eyes. 

“It ain’t right,” Ennis finally said. 

“What ain’t right?” Jack opened his arms, palms upturned with the question. “What the hell are you talking about? Because we broke the law? Because we stole? Because we lied? It ain’t right, but if we wanted to live, it was the only way!” He pounded his angry fists against Ennis’s chest, not enough to hurt, but making his point nonetheless.  
“Why did you try to get us killed?” 

Ennis stumbled backward on stiff legs. The uncooperative limbs, numb from riding, made him stagger and fall to the ground. He chewed on his lip for a moment before his eyes met Jack’s. 

“I been looking at you all day… every day… it ain’t right.”

Jack snorted, “Is that what this is all about?” He paced the ground like a fox trapped in a pen. He soon gave up and dropped on his knees next to Ennis. 

“C’mere,” he said, pressing his palm to Ennis’s temple, fingers digging through the curls. “There are worse things than this, Ennis.”

Ennis shut his eyes tight. Jack edged closer and grazed Ennis’s lips with his own. Ennis open his eyes a hair, perhaps to prove to himself that Jack hadn’t turned into a witch, casting a spell over him while his eyes were closed. But, Jack was no witch. He pressed his mouth harder, tongue nudging against Ennis’s lips, coaxing the flesh, until he felt them open almost imperceptibly. He pulled back, the fingers of his aching hand still entwined in Ennis’s hair. 

“S’alright,” he nodded, his eyes open. “Trust me. I know. There are worse things than this.”


	8. Chapter 8

_“S’alright,” he nodded, his eyes open. “Trust me. I know. There are worse things than this.”_

Ennis closed his eyes. He braced himself to be kissed again, although he secretly wished Jack were a witch, and that when he opened his eyes, he’d be gone. Ennis would have settled for this, rather than acknowledge the tightness in his britches and the uncertainty in his mind, brought on by Jack’s advances.

Jack brushed his lips across Ennis’s mouth again.

“I can’t,” Ennis whispered, eyes still shut.

“You can’t?” Jack spoke, their mouths touching like a dovetailed joint, one piece fitting into the other, but neither moving freely.

“No, I can’t,” the words emerged through Ennis’s motionless lips.

“You can’t _stop yourself,_ maybe?” said Jack, pulling back and raising an eyebrow. 

“No, I need to get away from you,” Ennis said, without moving. “I can’t kiss you.”

“Why not?” Jack whispered, fingers still caressing, his mouth moving in for another taste.

“You know damn well _why not!_ It’s wrong. Against the law, and God!” Ennis pulled away, leaving Jack with closed eyes and an open mouth.

The horse neighed and stomped his hooves, his unshod feet thumping the grassy earth. He trotted a circle around the men, having drunk his fill from the stream.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, no lightning bolt came out of the sky to strike you dead, so it can’t be _very_ wrong,” Jack smirked.

“I want to go back to Salem!” Ennis tore at the vegetation on the ground between his legs, pulling some juvenile mugwort out by its roots.

“You can’t go back. Can’t go anywhere near Salem-”

“I want things to be the way they were!” Ennis continued taking his frustration out on the grasses and herbs within reach, plucking blades from the ground and discarding each over his right knee.

“I’m sorry, friend. There are places you can’t return. Not when you’ve been accused of witchcraft,” Jack sighed.

Ennis’s head sunk low and he let out a huff of exasperated breath.

“You _do_ know you’ll be killed?” Jack leaned onto him, nudging his shoulder, his hand still carding through his hair.

“I had a place to live. I had work. Do you know I was to be married?”

Jack gave Ennis’s hair a tug before letting go, resting his hand on Ennis’s shoulder. “I know. I was there when she spat on you while you were in the stocks,” he averted his eyes to watch the horse graze nearby.

“She was always a righteous girl. Never minced words, or hesitated to make a decision,” Ennis smiled.

“I guess you missed your opportunity to have a happy life together, then” Jack laughed.

“Huh?”

“It might have worked out between the two of you, seeing how opposites attract- you’re not the most decisive fellow!”

Ennis shoved Jack’s arm away.

“Oh,” Jack groaned, grabbing his wrist.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I forgot you’re hurt.”

“It feels a bit better now, since we’ve rested.”

Ennis shifted his position, his left knee rubbing against Jack’s right. He wished it wasn’t so difficult to express himself, especially when being sincere. “About what happened in camp… I shouldn’t have surrendered. I put your life in jeopardy, as well as my own... I’m sorry.”

“You seemed hell-bent on being dragged back to the village. If I didn’t know any better, you wanted to be hung.”

“Of course I didn’t want to be hung! At that moment, it seemed if I could return to the place I lived, to the people who knew me, things would be just as they were before I got into this trouble.”

“But, everything has changed in Salem now. Even if you managed to avoid hanging- if they said your conviction was a mistake, you would never fit into their community. Things have changed too much… and I think you have changed, too.”

“I only ever wanted to fit in! To have a normal life!” Ennis dropped his head into his hands, shoulders shaking with Jack’s pronouncement. The truth, that Ennis was somehow different than other men, when spoken aloud, threatened to erase Ennis’s memories of life in Salem as he knew it, replacing them instead with horrible visions of life as an outcast.

Jack placed his hand on Ennis’s back. The pressure reassured Ennis that there was at least one person alive who cared about him, and what had become of him.

“How long have you known?” Jack asked.

“Known what?”

“You know…”

“That I’m not a witch?”

“No!”

“What?”

“You know… that you enjoy looking at me? I know I’m handsome, but I can’t believe I’m the first man you’ve looked at in… _that way.”_

“I can’t let myself look at you- _that way!_ I need to stop at once!” Ennis shrugged Jack’s hand away. “I remember when I was a boy, my father brought my brother, K. E., and I to my grandmother’s house in Salem Village.”

“Your grandmother lived in Salem?”

“Yes, I went to live with her when my parents were killed, that’s how I ended up there- anyway, there were these two men who lived on the outskirts of town. Everyone knew they were living together like a married couple. They were the laughing stock of the whole village. My father took us to the square one day to see what the townspeople had planned. They tarred and feathered one fellow, and ran him out of town. But the other, they stripped him naked, tied up and suspended him above a pointed seat, like a pyramid… do you know what I mean?”

“I got an idea.”

“They lowered him onto the point until he was sitting on it.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this.”

“Then they hung weights off his hands and feet. He sat there for three days before the point finally ripped through him, tearing him apart-”

“Ennis! Your own father made you watch that?”

“Me and K.E. Guess he wanted to make sure we’d never have thoughts of living like those men.”

A pair of dragonflies flitted through the summer air. Ennis looked at Jack, his head bowed, wondering if his father had done something similar to make him stop having those same thoughts when he was a boy. He imagined that he did, although he was raised an ocean away.

Jack wrapped his arms around his knees, “I’ve heard of some bad things that’ve been done to folks like us-”

“Don’t say ‘like us!’ I told you, I’m not going to be like that.”

“Well, I’ve seen some of that torture where I came from. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Maybe if you do think about it, and worry about being tortured, it’ll keep you from having those thoughts. Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of anything like that chair, or being tarred and feathered.”

“Me neither.”

Ennis took a deep breath, relieved by Jack’s words. “I suppose that thinking about that sort of punishment should be enough to keep me from looking at you, and you from looking at me.”

“Maybe. I think we should stay together until we’re certain the danger of being caught has passed. Then, we can go our separate ways.”

“I guess so.”

“I can’t live here without your help. We’ve gotten this far because of your skills. If we travel together awhile, you can teach me how to hunt and how to use the land. There are many things I need to learn, if you’ll help me.”

Ennis considered the proposition. Two could avoid capture easier than one. Two could hunt and fish for enough food. Two could provide each other companionship, instead of one suffering from loneliness. This seemed like fair compensation for Jack freeing him from the stocks, and rescuing him from the horseman. “Alright, I’ll help you,” he said.

“So far, we’ve managed well together.”

“I suppose we can travel until we reach my brother’s house. Then I can stay with him, and you can go to seek your fortune like you planned.”

“Agreed,” said Jack. Ennis shook Jack’s hand, being careful not to harm his wrist.

“We need to find a place to camp tonight, but first, we need to eat,” Ennis said, standing up and brushing his hands together, bits of duff lingering in the air before floating to the ground. He extended his right hand to Jack, who grabbed hold with his left and pulled himself up.

“We have the musket now. It should prove useful.” Jack said, catching the horse by the reins as he passed.

“We may be able to hunt a deer or fowl.”

Jack untied the cookpot from the horse’s saddle. He tossed the flask to Ennis and rummaged through the supplies for the fish. “I am looking forward to you teaching me to hunt.”

The men took the fish to the bank of the stream. They sat on the sun-warmed boulders and ate their meal.

They decided to walk a mile or so upstream, the horse in tow, before they searched for a suitable place to make their camp for the night. When the sun was well into its arc to the west, they chose a flat patch of ground surrounded by birches. They built a small fire and collected water from a spring that seeped from the moss nearby.

Ennis found some spearmint growing at the base of a tall pine. He twisted the shiny leaves, breaking them so their juices released. The water boiled, and Ennis brewed a tea so they wouldn’t have to go to their bed with empty bellies. They staked the horse with a length of twine, and settled under the oilcloth as they had done each night. The stars had just begun to appear in the night sky before the men fell into an exhausted sleep.

Ennis only awoke once in the night, when he heard Jack calling out in a dream.

“No…”

Ennis put his palm to Jack’s forehead.

“No…”

Jack’s brow dripped with sweat.

“Mama…” Jack moaned.

Ennis pushed against Jack’s body with his own, stroking his back with a gentle hand until they both fell asleep again.


	9. Chapter 9

_“Mama…” Jack moaned._

_Ennis pushed against Jack’s body with his own, stroking his back with a gentle hand until they both fell asleep again._

When he woke in the morning, Ennis’s right arm was still draped across Jack’s back, beneath the shared warmth of their cloaks. With sleepy eyes, Ennis contemplated the man, careful not to move or disturb his slumber. Ennis’s hand rose and fell with Jack’s breathing, the heat creeping down each of Ennis’s fingers from Jack’s back. The flushed lips that had kissed Ennis yesterday moved in their sleep, forming some silent incantation.

Ennis watched Jack’s face as he dreamed, the tiniest sprinkle of dark flecks across the smooth skin more pale than the finest porcelain, a forest of lashes, dark and thick, like the woods that surrounded their camp. Outside their cocoon, the sun struggled to pierce a grey overcast. The scent of imminent rain filled Ennis’s nostrils and dampness seeped into his knowing bones. Rain would hamper their ability to travel and make fire today. They would need to break camp soon to make progress.

Jack stirred and opened his eyes, as if summoned by Ennis’s thoughts. Ennis felt compelled to reclaim his hand immediately, but he allowed it to drag across Jack’s back before assuming its new position beneath Ennis’s chin.

“Morning,” said Jack.

“Yes,” said Ennis, sensing Jack’s legs stretch out in wakefulness beneath the oilcloth.

“I’m hungry.” Jack yawned.

“Me, too.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm, you?”

“I dreamed a lot.”

“I know,” Ennis said, returning his hand to Jack’s back. “You were calling out for your mother. Did you dream of her?”

“I don’t remember,” Jack said, rolling onto his back, allowing Ennis’s hand to shift onto his chest with the movement. “My mother died when I was a young boy.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Jack gave Ennis’s arm a squeeze. “I dream of her sometimes.”

“I know those dreams,” Ennis nodded. The bay snorted and lowered his head to chew at the tufts of vegetation within reach. “We should get moving soon. It would be wise to put more distance between us and Salem before it rains.”

The men brewed tea, letting it steep while they packed the oilcloth and organized their supplies. Jack tried to coax a tune out of the recorder. A whining melody did nothing to impress Ennis, but made the horse’s ears prick to attention. They took turns drinking from the cookpot before loading it with gear, securing the pot to the saddle along with the musket and rod.

“Do you want to ride double again?” asked Ennis.

“As long as the horse doesn’t mind,” said Jack.

“He’s a strong horse. Seems no worse for carrying us both.” Ennis stroked the horse’s neck, smoothing the velvet. “That’s right, you’re a good little darlin, for carrying us all this way.”

Jack took the reins and mounted the animal. He shimmied forward to make room for Ennis to ride behind. Ennis climbed up and reached his arms around Jack. He crossed his wrists and dug his fingers under the front of the saddle between Jack’s spread legs.

They rode a great distance further west, the horse trotting with its riders through the wooded land. It was no easy task for Ennis to keep his position on the horse. His thighs strained to hold on, and his arms ached as they stretched around Jack. He rested his head on Jack’s back. He was pleased that Jack had convinced him to ignore his yearnings so they could travel together, but he fought to avoid thoughts of Jack in the saddle. He pretended not to notice the feeling of his chest pressing against Jack, his groin astride the horse and opened to Jack’s backside, and his own breath as it swirled on Jack’s neck.

They passed through fields and cloudy valleys surrounded by mossy hills. As the miles went by, they increased their intimacy considerably, becoming accustomed to each other’s scent and their bodies in simultaneous motion while they rode.

Ennis hitched his chin over Jack’s shoulder to view the upcoming terrain. The sky darkened as they rode. A wind whipped across the grasses and swayed the pines. Distant thunder rumbled more loudly than the growling of their empty bellies. Ennis knew they would need to stop soon to catch fish or hunt game.

When they reached a wide lake, they gave the horse and themselves a rest. Ennis tended to the animal, removing the saddle and using his strong hands to rub the animal down while it grazed on clumps of clover.

Jack stood at the spillway where the water rushed from the end of the lake into a churning gorge. He leaped from boulder to boulder across the sluicing whitewater to the other side where the lake became shallow.

“There’s fish!” he called to Ennis.

“Let’s set up a tarp first. It’s going to rain soon,” Ennis called back. “We may as well stay here.”

Jack crossed the outflow again, and the men worked to pitch the oilcloth so it would keep them dry. They tied a length of twine chest-high between two trees. Draping the cloth over the line, they stood with the spine between them and tugged at each side until they were equal. Satisfied that the tarp would shelter them, they staked the four corners to the ground.

Ennis grabbed the fishing rod to try his luck, leaving Jack to manage a fire at one entry to the tarp. He took long strides and a running start, jumping across the spillway to the opposite bank where trout had congregated in the shallow water. Drops of rain touched the lake surface, their expanding circles marking each landing.

By the time he caught the first fish, he could see that Jack had started an adequate fire. They would need to roast this meal, having no butter or onions in which to dredge the meat.

Jack leaped across the rocks to where Ennis perched with the rod.

“How are you faring?” he asked.

“I’ve got two, so far,” said Ennis. “It’s difficult because the fish think the raindrops are food.”

“Maybe you should stop and we can just eat those two?”

“No, let me try for more. Two won’t be enough to fill us.”

“Alright, I’ll keep gathering wood. You’re a far better fisherman than I!”

Ennis laughed at the compliment, and cast his line again.

The air grew cooler and gusts ruffled the lake so whitecaps formed on the surface. Ennis shivered while he fished. He told himself that he would soon be by the warm fire. He smiled when he gazed across the outflow to see that Jack gathered a good supply of firewood.

When Jack next crossed the spillway to check his progress, four fish lay barely breathing in the dirt.

“I think that’s enough for now,” said Jack.

“I’m going to agree, only because I’m freezing,” said Ennis, his teeth chattering as the rain fell harder.

Jack took the rod from him and placed it on the ground. “You’re shivering,” said Jack, grasping Ennis by the arms. “Here, I’ll carry two fish, and you can take two. There’s no time for me to bring the pot. Let’s go!”

The men carried the fish to the campsite, stumbling across the rainswept spillway. Ennis sat shivering under the tarp facing the fire where Jack had set the pot to heat water for drinking. He sipped on the warmed lake water and watched Jack clean the fish. When he stopped shaking, and his clothing dried enough that he felt comfortable again, he noticed that Jack had staked the horse to the base of a large pine so the animal would have sheltering branches overhead, and that he had cut some soft fir boughs to pad their bed.

Jack stood in the rain, threading a long thin stick through each fish. He finally collapsed by Ennis under the tarp and they roasted the meat over the flames. The fire cast a warm glow under the oilcloth and Jack’s clothes dried appreciably while they cooked.

“So, how is it that you were on that ship for all those weeks, and never caught any fish?” asked Ennis, between bites.

“I suppose you won’t be surprised to learn that I was a stow-away,” Jack said, pulling some bones between his teeth.

Ennis chuckled, “No, doesn’t surprise me a bit!”

“I was caught and held prisoner.”

“That’s amazing! How’d you escape?”

“I worked one of the boards loose, and sunk the ship with my captors in the process.” Lightning flashed and a clap of thunder shook the ground.

Ennis was never so glad to have a watertight roof over his head. “I knew you were a clever one!” he laughed.

They finished eating, their hunger finally satisfied. Jack tossed more wood on the fire and rinsed his hands with warm water. He drank his fill before offering the pot to Ennis. 

“It’s all yours,” Jack said. “Drink up, and the water will keep you warm all night.”

Ennis accepted the pot and drank, splashing some water on his face and hands, before drying them over the flames. He spread his cloak out wide over the firs, and lay on his back, his belly full and his body warm. Jack laid his cloak next to Ennis and prepared to lie down.

“Damnit,” Jack said. “I left the rod over by the spillway.”

“It’s alright, we can get it in the morning.”

“Listen to that wind. It will blow into the gorge and we’ll lose it. I’m going to get it. I won’t be a moment.”

“Go on,” said Ennis. “But you’ll get wet again.”

Ennis settled into his cloak. His eyes drifted shut and he dozed. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he jerked awake.

“Jack?” He fumbled his hand over the empty space next to him.

“Jack!”

Ennis poked his head outside the tarp. Sheets of rain obscured his view of their fishing spot.

“Jack?”

He pulled on his boots and splashed through the mud between the tarp and the lake. Even as he got closer to the spillway, he saw nothing.


	10. Chapter 10

_“Jack?”_

_He pulled on his boots and splashed through the mud between the tarp and the lake. Even as he got closer to the spillway, he saw nothing that indicated where Jack could have gone._

“Jack!” Ennis shielded his eyes from the rain, scanning the lakeside when a lightning strike illuminated the rocky shore, improving visibility.

“Damnit, Jack, where are you?”

He squinted, trying to get a fix on a body floating in the lake, or Indians riding into the horizon with their blue-eyed captive. He paced back and forth, clothes getting soaked, boots sliding across the muck. When he paused to listen, the only sound he heard was the wind, punctuated by the rumbling from the sky.

“Jack!” He speared his hair with shaking fingers, twisting and yanking on the strands until it hurt before he let them slip free.

“Jack! Jaaaaaack!” he called, lengthening the vowel, as if doing so would make Jack suddenly appear unharmed.

He stood at the spillway and clasped his hands over his mouth. “Where are you?” he moaned into empty fists, falling to his knees in the mud. The puddle seeped into his trousers which absorbed the liquid like a sponge.

“Jack?” he choked out.

_The rod. He was going to get the rod. Where did he leave it?_

Ennis tried to remember. They had fished on the other side of the spillway. Jack had come over and grabbed Ennis by the arms. He shook him, chiding him because he had stayed in the rain too long and was now shivering. Ennis remembered the tender concern in Jack’s eyes. Jack had taken the rod and placed it on the ground.

_Was the rod still there?_

Ennis leaped across the rocks, his feet barely touching each boulder. In a lightning flash, he caught a glimpse of a hand reaching up from the rocky gorge, bloody fingers and ragged nails clawing for purchase.

Ennis was caught off balance in mid-leap. He nearly skidded from the boulder and fell into the gorge himself. He whirled his arms to keep upright.

“Jack!” he called, but the hands remained motionless.

Ennis picked his way down the rocks, grateful for each bolt of lightning that let him see the way, even if only for an instant. He scrambled to the lump that was the body. “Jack,” he whispered beneath the sound of the rushing water. There was movement. He reached down and clutched Jack’s icy hands into his own.

“I f-f-f-fell,” Jack stuttered. The cold water splashed over Jack’s legs and sluiced along each side of his torso. His clothing was drenched.

“Oh, Jack… you’re freezing. Let’s get you out of here.”

“C-c-c-cold,” the only word Jack managed. Raindrops scattered off Jack’s eyelashes with every trembling shake as Ennis helped him climb the remaining distance to the bank.

“I know you’re cold,” Ennis hugged Jack to him, absorbing some of the wetness with his own clothing. “It’s alright, I’m going to get you warm. Can you walk?”

“I th-th-think s-s-so,” Jack shivered.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ennis wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders and helped him shuffle to the tarp.

“S-s-s-so cold,” Jack winced through purple lips.

“Stand here and warm your hands. I’ll help you,” Ennis said, moving Jack stiffly toward the campfire. Ennis shook his hands, flinging droplets that sizzled in the flames. “We need to get these wet clothes off you.”

Jack clenched and unclenched his bleeding fingers. His eyes closed with the welcome warmth.

Ennis tugged at the bottom of Jack’s shirt. He lifted and peeled it over his head, without wasting time to attempt the buttons. He twisted the shirt into a spiral, wringing the water out, before spreading it on a sheltered bough near the fire.

“I f-f-fell f-f-far,” said Jack, shaking.

“I know… everything’s going to be alright. I’ll get you warmed up soon.”

Ennis unfastened Jack’s trousers. He knelt and drew them down, turning his head to avoid looking at his nakedness. The fabric stuck to Jack’s damp skin and Ennis had to use his fingers to detach it and slide it in the right direction. He helped Jack out of his boots. Jack cautiously balanced with both hands on Ennis’s shoulders while Ennis worked on each foot.

“I’m sorry, you’re so cold,” said Ennis, his hand on Jack’s bare hip for leverage.

“B-b-b-better now,” said Jack, releasing the pressure on Ennis’s shoulders.

Ennis kept his eyes on the ground. He bit his lower lip and dragged his fingers down Jack’s hipbone before moving away, leaving Jack naked in front of the fire.

Ennis rummaged among their supplies and found his old torn shirt from when Jack rescued him from the stocks. He returned to Jack and draped the shirt over his head, massaging the fabric over the long black strands to absorb the water. He worked his way down, gently using the shirt to blot the water off Jack’s skin, averting his eyes as necessary.

Jack stared straight ahead, numbed by the icy water. He held out his hands so Ennis could work on his torn fingers. Ennis dabbed each one carefully, wiping off the blood, so they were clean again.

“The bed is still warm,” said Ennis, shoving the cookpot back on the fire to reheat the drinking water. “Let’s get you covered up.”

Ennis helped Jack crawl beneath the tarp, wrapping him in both their cloaks. He then set Jack’s wet garments near the fire to dry. Although the rain still poured down, their campfire was sheltered beneath the pines and only an occasional drop pierced the canopy.

Ennis stripped off his own wet clothes, the steam rising off his warm skin. If not for his foray into the gorge, he might have been as comfortable as when he slept. He waved his hands over the fire and allowed the heat to wash over him, turning to absorb the warmth onto his backside as well.

He squatted next to the cookpot and filled the flask with hot water. A gust of wind mingled the smoke with the smell of his warm skin. He capped the flask, walked the few steps to the tarp entrance, and peered inside.

Jack turned his eyes toward him, a weak smile acknowledged his presence. Ennis knelt in the entryway, his clothes left behind on a branch.

“Here, drink this,” he said, “It will help warm your insides.”

Jack perched on an elbow and struggled to grab hold of the flask, but his cramped hands would not cooperate. He dropped it and Ennis laughed in frustration, overjoyed that Jack was alive and safe.

“Here, try it this way,” he said, raising the flask to Jack’s lips. Jack drank his fill of the warm liquid while Ennis held the container for him.

“D-d-did you get the rod?” Jack asked, pulling away and licking his lips.

“I’m not worried about losing the rod, dumbass. I’m worried about you!”

“Oh,” Jack sighed.

“Here, lie back down and I’ll get you warm,” said Ennis.

Forgetting any embarrassment, he crawled under the tarp, pivoting on his hands and knees so he was lined up with Jack from head to toe.

“You’re so cold,” Ennis said, running his hand over the cloak that covered Jack’s arm, the glow of the campfire spilling into their shelter. “I remember one time, K.E. and I were playing on a frozen pond near our grandmother’s house. We were just little kids, running and sliding across the ice.”

Ennis worked as he spoke, freeing the part of the cloak that was pinned under Jack’s body. He reached under the fabric and lightly pushed against Jack’s cold flesh. “Go on, roll onto your side.”

Jack seemed to muster all his strength to comply with Ennis’s request.

“There you go,” Ennis continued, skimming a warm hand across Jack’s back. “K.E. was running, and all of a sudden, there was a loud bang.”

“D-d-did the ice break?” Jack asked, his voice quivering.

Ennis slid his legs under the cloak. “It did. The ice broke, and K.E. kept skidding until he disappeared under the water.”

“I think I know how cold he felt,” said Jack, stretching his own legs against Ennis’s warm legs.

“Fortunately, a drover came by with his team, and dragged K.E. out.” Ennis leaned in and pressed his chest against Jack’s back. He shuddered at the cold contact, but quickly adjusted to the chilly skin against him.

“Oh, that feels good. You’re so warm.” Jack said.

Ennis wrapped his arms around Jack, squeezing their bodies together. “He brought us back to our grandmother’s house and she took care of K.E.”

“What did she do?” asked Jack, finding Ennis’s hands with his own.

“She took all K.E.’s wet clothes off and had me take off all my clothes. Then she had me lie next to K.E. under the quilts.”

Jack smiled. “Like this… just like this.”

“That’s right.” Ennis freed a hand to grab the flask and take a drink of warm water, offering it to Jack. Jack held the flask to take a sip.

“You’re feeling better,” Ennis said. “When you’re done drinking, put the flask on your belly and you’ll get warmed up from both sides.

Jack closed the flask and laid it against his naked skin. “You’re right, that feels good.”

Ennis found Jack’s hands again. “Do they hurt?”

“Yes, I damn near shredded my fingers when I was trying to climb up the rocks.”

“At least the water was cold enough to take away some pain.”

“Feels good with your warm hands on them.”

“Just trying to help.”

“I’m glad you came looking for me.”

“Of course I did,” Ennis smiled. “Can’t be letting you go running around the woods at night all alone.”

“No telling what trouble I’ll get into,” Jack squeezed Ennis’s hands.

Raindrops bounced off the oilcloth, lulling them to sleep. Ennis dozed, worried about what he would do when they awoke, their naked bodies clinging together in warmth. Maybe he could sneak away and dress in his damp clothes while Jack slept. He knew that he couldn’t keep his promise for much longer, not with his own body threatening to betray him.


	11. Chapter 11

_Raindrops bounced off the oilcloth, lulling them to sleep. Ennis dozed, worried about what he would do when they awoke, their naked bodies clinging together in warmth. Maybe he could sneak away and dress in his damp clothes while Jack slept. He knew that he couldn’t keep his promise for much longer, not with his own body threatening to betray him._

Sleep attempted to claim him, but he refused to fully succumb. Exhausted by the ordeal of rescuing Jack from the ravine and warming him to a human temperature again, he fought the night, thinking that he could ignore his stirring emotions if he stayed alert. Instead, he settled into a vague half-sleep, neither dreaming, nor awake.

He wished he hadn’t admitted to Jack that he was worried about him when he went missing. It seemed like he had unintentionally given something away, without thinking of the consequences. Jack had caught him off guard by asking about the fishing rod, when it was the least of Ennis’s concerns at that moment. He cared about Jack, and he had told him so.

With each intake of breath, the man in his arms rose and fell, sleep washing over him like the torrents that swept the lake where they had fished only a few hours earlier. Nestled in their warm bed, Ennis matched Jack’s breathing with the same leisurely pattern. Slow, steady, to avoid disturbing his rest, the warm skin sticking to him, in places that he did not dare define. The rhythm pried the last stronghold of Ennis’s grip from the wakefulness he tried to preserve, and he slipped over the edge.

They were riding again. Ennis held Jack’s waist, pressing his fingers into the welcome warm skin beneath the fabric of his unbuttoned shirt. The horse galloped past hills and valleys, carrying both men on its broad back. Only this time, there were no reins to be held. Jack still rode in front, as always, but he no longer faced the direction they traveled. Instead, he sat with his back to the horse’s neck, facing Ennis as they were carried across pastures and through marshy fields, the water splashing up onto their dangling legs with every hoof strike.

Jack raised his hands overhead and reclined against the horse, his lips parting to reveal a smile. Only now, the horse’s velvet brown coat had changed. One by one, each thin hair had turned pure white, right before Ennis’s eyes. And, now it seemed that the creature was no longer a horse at all. When the animal craned its neck to course ahead, Ennis’s eyes gaped wide to see a golden spiral horn protruding from the creature’s forehead, foam streaming from its mouth. The magnificent beast carried them across the land, never slowing its stride.

Ennis leaned forward, letting go with one hand to trace a finger through the droplets of sweat that trickled down Jack’s chest. He only stopped when his finger brushed against the waist of Jack’s trousers. An amused smile crossed his face before he reached up with both hands, running them over Jack’s scruffy chin and through his hair, tangling it together with the unicorn’s flaxen mane. The strong beat of hooves thumped against the ground as Ennis brought his mouth down on Jack’s, dipping his tongue into his mouth, the taste sweeter than honey. He caressed his face while they kissed, Jack covering Ennis’s hands with his own.

Ennis’s eyes drifted shut while he savored Jack’s lips. When he opened them again, their mount had vanished into the swirling air and they were falling. The world rushed by in a blur, a feeling in his belly like when he was a child jumping out of the hayloft window to land in the heap of soft cut grass below. They floated to the ground, a carpet of wildflowers cushioning their fall. Ennis landed on top of Jack and they tumbled and tussled in wild abandon.

They came to a stop with Ennis flat on his back. Jack settled his weight on top of him, keeping him captive, raising a hand to push back a lock of Ennis’s hair from his forehead. Ennis looked away, unsure. If there were answers to be had, they were found in Jack’s eyes which echoed the fathomless blue of the sky above, when Ennis gathered the courage to look at him again.

“What’s wrong,” Jack asked, his hands soothing, his mouth a whisper away from Ennis’s.

Ennis pursed his lips, but did not speak.

“It’s alright, Ennis.” Jack said, softly kissing the corner of his mouth.

Ennis was startled by his own feelings, but he was even more surprised that Jack seemed to feel the same way about him. His betrothed, Alma, had never filled him with the desire that he felt for Jack. His brow wrinkled as he tried to conjure up thoughts of torture and eternal damnation, but Jack’s intoxicating presence made it difficult to think of anything else.

Jack traced his thumb across Ennis’s bottom lip. A Junebug buzzed nearby. Its piercing call disturbing the quiet of the lonely field.

“I know you’re worried about the villagers, and the God they serve, but they have no right to tell you it is wrong for us to share this,” he smoothed Ennis’s brow with his fingers.

“I wish I didn’t have to think it’s wrong,” said Ennis with a weak smile.

“You don’t need to. Look around. We’re the only two people for miles. We’re in danger, struggling to survive. Living in fear for our very lives. I won’t believe that the almighty God who made everything we see here- you, me, this grass, those trees, everything- would be so cruel to punish us for finding pleasure in each other.” Jack shifted his weight so his groin was settled firmly between Ennis’s legs.

“I think God would say- go right ahead, Jack Twist. I have tortured you enough in your lifetime. Do whatever you must to stay alive and to find happiness. After all you’ve survived, it is time that you found joy.” Ennis’s fingers picked at the grass. He had been through some ordeals like Jack had experienced, he was sure. The bond of kinship between them became more apparent as Jack mentioned his sad past, trials that Ennis could only wonder about, until Jack was ready to share them.

Jack spoke quietly now, “The villagers are wrong, Ennis. You’re not wrong. I’m not wrong. This is not wrong. Besides, it’s nobody’s business but ours.” 

Jack gave Ennis’s temple a gentle rub with his knuckles before wheedling his hand behind Ennis’s head and let his fingers thread through his hair. Ennis closed his eyes. He felt Jack’s lips touch his and he could no longer resist. He wrapped his arms around him and rolled them to their sides, pressing his swollen cock into Jack’s thigh and grinding for all he was worth.

“Uh, Ennis…” Jack panted through kisses as he tried to move backward when he felt Ennis pressing into him, his head bumping the oilcloth and sending a mist of condensed droplets falling from their roof. He tried again, “Ennis?”

“Yes?” Ennis gasped.

“Wait,” Jack said, his hands still tangled in Ennis’s hair, their lips joined in passion.

“Uh,” Ennis blushed in the dawn light, tilting his head away. “I was dreaming.”

“I was beginning to wonder,” said Jack, breathlessly. “You said you were going to try to stop having these feelings, yet here we are.”

“Sorry,” whispered Ennis, his arms still around Jack, the soft hair of Jack’s chest grazing his nipples.

“Don’t be,” said Jack, dragging a finger along Ennis’s jaw. “What were you dreaming about?”

“Just this… being here like this,” said Ennis, without making any effort to release Jack.

The campfire had burned low and the smell of wet coals hung in the air. Every so often, a drop from the diminishing rainstorm would sizzle when it struck a hot spot.

Jack leaned into Ennis, lowering his head to the base of Ennis’ neck, pressing soft sucking kisses into the fair skin before running his tongue up to gently nudge his earlobe. Ennis shuddered at the sensation, fingers digging hard into Jack’s torso.

“Jack,” he breathed. 

“It’s alright,” Jack whispered, kissing soft on his neck again.

“This has to be a one-shot thing,” Ennis murmured.

“Nobody’s business but ours,” Jack said, just like in the dream.

“I’m not-” but whatever Ennis planned to say was cut off by Jack’s mouth, hungry and strong, tongue sliding along tongue, lips tugging against lips, Ennis now a willing participant.

Their legs entwined, he kissed Jack just as passionately, grinding their groins together until he could no longer breathe. He pulled back, his chest heaving, when Jack’s seeking fingers dove beneath the cloaks to explore, his hand finding its objective and swirling the milky fluid across the tip of Ennis’s erection.

Burying his head in Jack’s neck, Ennis licked at the salty sweat skin, choking out a gasp at the feeling of Jack’s hand on him. He moaned when Jack wrapped his fingers around both their lengths and squeezed them together in his palm. Ennis reached down abruptly and grabbed Jack by the wrist just as he was beginning to pump out a lazy rhythm.

“No!” Ennis urged.

“What?” Jack drew back, his eyes watering.

“You’ll hurt your hand,” Ennis said, replacing Jack’s hand with his own.

Jack sighed and let out a ragged breath of anticipation while Ennis took over. He brought his hands to Ennis’s face and brushed his cheeks with battered thumbs while Ennis increased the pace, his gaze never leaving the other man’s eyes.

Jack felt like smooth silk over hardened steel in Ennis’s hand. He remembered his last attempt at self-satisfaction before he was accused of witchcraft and put into the stocks. It was no surprise that he reached his climax after only a few strokes. He collapsed with a cry that triggered Jack’s release. When their breathing returned to normal, he placed a final kiss on Jack’s flushed lips. 

Without saying another word, they both knew how it would go in the days that followed.


	12. Chapter 12

_Without saying another word, they both knew how it would go in the days that followed._

As it did go. They spent each morning traveling, sometimes stopping when they saw an opportunity to fish or hunt, but occasionally to roll in the grass, their grunts and snorts echoing off valley walls or rising above the sound of the churning rivers.

Jack had crafted a new rod to replace the one lost in the ravine. Ennis tried his aim hunting grouse with the musket, but there was little shot, and even less gunpowder, in their kit. He fared better when he mounted a surprise attack on an unsuspecting hen and her clutch of eggs. They ate well, even if there wasn’t much variety in species.

They alternated walking and riding as much as the horse would tolerate. Temperate mid-June weather favored them, so they made some progress distancing themselves from the villagers who would do them harm. Miles would pass before the afternoon sun blinded their eyes in its western descent.

When the travel day ended, they found a place to camp. Ennis never said much during the day, always on the prowl for game and wary about being prey himself, but when the campfire died down and their bellies were full, the man became more demonstrative under the oilcloth, with both his body and his words.

“My landlord treated me well, the pay was alright,” Ennis said. He stared up at the canopy of stars, the night sky cloudless and clear. “I always figured I’d be able to start building a place of my own soon enough.”

“Tell me about it,” Jack said, the oilcloth rustling when he settled underneath its blanketing cover, an arm flung across Ennis’s waist. “What kind of place did you want to build?”

“Oh, nothing special, just a roof overhead, four walls… a hearth…” Ennis stroked Jack’s cheek, tracing the indistinct line where the pale skin met the soft dark whiskers.

“That sounds nice. You could build it with a loft for sleeping, and put the hearth in the center so it would heat the space well, not on the side, like they sometimes do it.” Jack nuzzled his cheek against Ennis’s hand.

“Hmm… that’s a good idea.”

“What would you do for work then, the same as you were doing for the landlord, or would you then be the lord of your own land?” Jack laughed.

Ennis smirked. “I suppose eventually I would have gotten my own stock, took on the task of hauling goods with a team of horses, I don’t know... I never thought I’d end up here. How about you? What did you do before?”

“Before I stowed away… I’d do whatever task was demanded of me.”

“How do you mean?”

“I had no choice. I had to do what I was told because it was better than getting beaten half to death.”

“You were an apprentice of some sort?”

“No... I was indentured- far worse than being an apprentice,” Jack said, allowing his healed fingers to work on Ennis’s shirt buttons.

“What’s the difference?” Ennis asked, covering Jack’s hand with his and threading their fingers together.

Jack shifted and rolled to his side, engaging Ennis eye to eye. The scent of pine seeped up from the boughs beneath them. “An apprentice is there to learn things so he can start a business of his own. Someone who is indentured is sold to the tradesman as a worker.”

“Sold? Like a possession?”

“Something like that.” Jack relaxed and rested his head in the hollow of Ennis’s neck.

“I never thought of you as someone who would tolerate living like that.”

“As well you shouldn’t. I didn’t tolerate it. I could never be suited to that life permanently. Someday I’d free myself and come to the New World. I always knew. I had been hearing stories about how plentiful the lands are, and how the colonists and the Indians get along. With any luck, a layperson could be granted acreage of land and start-”

“You know,” Ennis interrupted, “The way you prattle on and on, if I didn’t know any better, I would have thought that you could be an apprentice to the town crier.”

Jack laughed and seized Ennis by the wrists, forcing his hands over his head, their chests colliding. He pressed down hard with his mouth on Ennis’s, drawing back only to nibble his bottom lip with playful teeth. “It was a shipwright that I was indentured to.”

“Oh, now that makes sense,” said Ennis, his eyes twinkling in the firelight.

“My master built ships. And I learned from him, everything that must be done to turn a stand of trees into a ship.” Jack released Ennis and framed his face between his hands. “It was a wooden ship that brought me here.”

Ennis lowered his arms to wrap them around Jack, hands sliding under his shirt and over the warm flesh of his back. He urged him closer still. “But, who sold you?” he whispered against his lips.

Jack’s eyes grew dark. “My father.”

“But-” Ennis started to protest, but was cut off by Jack’s finger against his lips.

“Hush. It’s not important now,” Jack said, replacing his finger with his tongue, thus beginning their nightly journey toward a mutually satisfying sleep.

*

For the first time in his life, Ennis felt comfortable in his own skin. Although Jack usually got things started between the two, Ennis grew bolder in his actions as the days went by. Even in broad daylight, the quiet colonist that Jack freed from the stocks no longer shied away from making his needs known. The urge would come over him, as it did now when he saw Jack fishing from the shore.

Ennis strode up behind him, unnoticed, careful not to make a sound, a mischievous grin on his face. He paused before got too close, taking a moment to observe the man as he cast the line. Strong forearms stretching out from his rolled shirtsleeves, the muscles of his back visible beneath the opaque fabric, the curve of his ass beneath his trousers. No wonder he could build ships with those lean arms and that sturdy back.

He slowly crept toward him and wrapped his arms around his waist, catching him off guard. Jack tried to pretend he didn’t notice the interruption, still paying attention to the fish that scrambled for food beneath the water’s surface. But Ennis let his hands slide over the fabric, his fingers roaming the front of Jack’s shirt, sensing the soft fur of his belly underneath. He trapped Jack’s earlobe between his lips, sucking the soft skin gently, making his fine dark lashes flutter and bringing a smile to his face. When Ennis snaked his hand lower, breaching the rough fabric of his trousers to squeeze at the hardness he found there, Jack had no choice but to give up on fishing. He tossed the rod aside, wrestled Ennis to the ground, laughing and groaning and grinding together while the horse occasionally looked on, but most times their only observers were the mosquitoes under the hot mid-day sun.

*

When night fell, they retired under the oilcloth where they spent long hours discovering that which gave them each the most pleasure. It was different every time, but always slow and unrushed.

Jack leaned over Ennis, his fingers taking care in unfastening buttons. Ennis lay still, his breath hitching in anticipation. Jack undressed him, uncovering his flesh bit by bit, taking time to sooth the quivering skin with the gentle rubbing of a practiced hand or a slide of his warm mouth. Ennis never let his eyes close or wander from Jack’s face. The man solemn, in his reverie of touch and taste. Time, as endless as the forest and fields that stretched out everyday before them.

When Ennis thrashed his head from side to side, begging for release, a thin strand of slick suspended in mid-air between his cock and his belly, Jack relented in his sweet torture and brought him to completion with a firm stroke of his palm. Ennis buried his face in Jack’s soft dark hair, choking out words that were not words, before taking his turn in learning what would please Jack.

Ennis undressed him, letting his fingers trace over the indented scar on his left arm, his eyes full of compassion. Some unknown injury, they would talk about one day, but for now Jack bit his bottom lip concentrating on Ennis’s touch as his hands skimmed lower. Ennis nudged under his knees until they bent, stroked his inner thighs, his legs falling open as he allowed himself to be explored by Ennis’s calm lingering hands. He dragged a moist finger down the length of his hard cock, admiring the differences between Jack and himself. Warm hands cupped and stroked, fingers slid and discovered that which would tip Jack over the edge, relinquishing control. Ennis moved to cradle Jack’s head in his lap, kissing his eyes closed, ever grateful for a companion on his lonely road.

*

Ennis loved when Jack rested his head on his thighs. He encouraged it often during the day, propping his back against a stout tree when they rested in the shade. He let his fingers card through the soft strands of hair, disheveled by the faint summer breeze. They happened upon a patch of wild raspberries and he fed them into Jack’s hungry mouth while he reclined.

“Just drop it in,” Jack said, the ripe fruit hovering high above his mouth.

Ennis let go and Jack caught the berry, closing his lips quickly so it didn’t bounce out.

Ennis stretched his legs. “Time to get going,” he said, giving Jack a push.

Jack stood up, extending a hand to Ennis, helping him to his feet.

Ennis saw the motion before he heard the arrow strike the tree next to his head. At first he thought it was a hummingbird, but when the sharp point splintered the wood, he knew otherwise. The two Indians that ran toward them confirmed his suspicions that today was not going to go as planned.


	13. Chapter 13

_Ennis saw the motion before he heard the arrow strike the tree next to his head. At first he thought it was a hummingbird, but when the sharp point splintered the wood, he knew otherwise. The two Indians that ran toward them confirmed his suspicions that today was not going to go as planned._

“Ozigalda!” The tall brave shouted, his bow flapping in the air like a single wing as he leaped from his vantage point on the hill. He moved swiftly and silently, closing the gap between him and the men.

The shorter Indian ran with his bow held by his side, the arrow engaged. This brave was barely a man, perhaps only a teenager, as far as Ennis could tell. He strode across the grass toward the tree where they had been eating their raspberries, shouting and whooping like a wild coyote.

The Indians’ only clothing was made of deerskin, a breechcloth that covered their loins and fluttered as they moved, moccasins on their feet. The short brave’s hair flowed freely, loose brown strands bouncing up and down as he approached the men. The taller Indian, black hair pulled into a braid, his head shaved down to bare scalp over his ears, continued to shout the one word Ennis could make out, “Ozigalda!”

Jack put his hands on his hips and puffed his chest out. “Now, what is this all about?” he asked. 

Ennis wrinkled his nose at Jack. He was fairly sure that the Indians wouldn’t understand Jack’s question, but he still managed to sigh with relief when he noticed their bows weren’t drawn against him or Jack.

“You ready to fight?” Ennis muttered low, so only Jack could hear.

“I’m ready for anything,” said Jack.

“I think we can handle these two.” Ennis worked his jaw tight and clenched his fists in preparation. He looked away from the Indians for a moment and caught Jack’s eye. Ennis nodded his head, satisfied that he and Jack were going to be able to handle these two heathens easily.

“Megeso!” a shout echoed down the valley, catching the men off guard.

Jack and Ennis pivoted their heads toward the noise. The sound of hooves hammered the ground. Someone approached fast on horseback.

“Azeban!” another voice shouted from behind them, deep and authoritative in its demands.

Ennis and Jack turned to see the Indian emerge from the trees. A leather band adorned his forehead, keeping his long black hair off his face. Feathers dangled to his right shoulder, suspended by rawhide strips. Muscles flexed across his bare sun-bronzed chest as he slid from his mount and drew his bow against Jack and Ennis.

“Zasis,” the tall brave who shot the arrow pleaded. “Ozigalda.”

“Maji,” the bronze savage said calmly, lowering the bow to his side. He approached the tree and grabbed the arrow’s shaft, twisting it free with a powerful hand.

“Megeso!” the other Indian rode over the rise, his grullo foaming at the mouth and snorting impatiently at the sudden stop. His deerskin-clad legs were covered with a crimson substance that Ennis hoped wasn’t human blood. The horrific torture these Indians could administer weighed heavily on his mind.

The bay stamped his hooves and whinnied at the sudden arrival of more equine company.

The bloodied Indian dismounted and glanced at his tribesman, grunting in approval. He then turned his attention to the young marksmen, unintelligible words spewing from his mouth. He grabbed the bow from the tall Indian while the other brave sat on his haunches, his bow flat on the grass in front of him. The tall boy lowered his head while he was chastised by the adult, the words strange to Jack and Ennis, but the meaning clearly expressed with his angry tone.

When the adult seemed satisfied, he turned from the young men. “Kagwi labadamwagan?” he asked the Indian with the feathers.

The Indian shrugged and kicked the cookpot, spilling its contents across the grass. He stooped to sort through the supplies, filtering the knife and the musket from the pile.

“Paskhigan!” he called.

Suddenly, the air filled with tension and the blood-stained Indian drew his bow, the arrow loaded, eager to pierce either white man’s flesh. Ennis shifted his eyes to Jack and raised his hands in surrender.

“Unless you got a better idea?” Ennis questioned, arching an eyebrow.

Apparently Jack couldn’t think of anything, because he followed Ennis’s lead and reached for the sky.

Ennis watched the angry Indians load their supplies and lash them to their horse. He regretted that there were no weapons handy, no hope of Jack taking an Indian down with his recorder now. The afternoon had turned into a nightmare. Only moments earlier, he and Jack were sharing sweet kisses and laughing about who could catch the most raspberries, their lips stained red with juice. Where to camp and which sampling of nature’s bounty to enjoy first, their only concern. But now, their plans were dashed, not just for the night, but perhaps forever.

“Wijawi,” the feather-wearing Indian called to the other. He brought the twine and tied Jack’s hands behind his back while the bloodied Indian stood guard. The two braves watched while Jack was bound, a piece of animal skin forced into his mouth and tied in place behind his head, the twine tearing out strands of dark hair.

Ennis chanced a glimpse at Jack. He held his head high, no sign of fear in those frosty blue eyes, so unlike the tranquil gaze of passion that Ennis knew so well. Ennis knew Jack had been in dangerous situations before. In the few short weeks they had been together, it was Jack who showed fearlessness when they were escaping from the villagers. It was Jack who told daring stories of how he survived as an indentured worker, stowed away to sea, and challenged armed men who wanted him dead.

Ennis felt helpless. He could only stand in the sun while Jack was tied up. He’d likely be scalped and roasted over a spit. Ennis had heard tales around the village. Worst of all, Ennis knew that when they were done with Jack, he would be next. Then, there would be no chance to save himself, and even less chance to help Jack. He looked to the sky as if asking heaven for help. Two turkey vultures circled overhead, lazily riding the updrafts on a sunny afternoon.

The feathered Indian yanked on the twine that joined Jack’s wrists and dragged him toward his horse. 

Jack yelped through the gag.

Ennis didn’t have time to think. He flew at the bloodied Indian, knocking his bow to the ground and taking him down with pummeling fists of rage.

Jack saw this and took action. He lowered his head and rammed into the Indian who tethered him, his hands still tied behind his back. The Indian regained balance and punished Jack with a swift knee to the ribs and a left-handed belt across his face. Blood gushed from Jack’s nose, splattering on the green summer grass of the battlefield.

Ennis squeezed the Indian’s throat as they struggled and rolled across the ground. Again and again, Ennis lifted and smashed his head in the dirt, wanting nothing more than to dash the brains from his skull. But, it was all for naught, because the tall brave poised himself above Ennis, holding a boulder the size of a breadloaf, high in the air.

Jack tried to scream a warning, but his voice was lost in the leather and blood that clogged his throat. Ennis’s felt the crashing blow to his head. He stumbled, dazed, before crumbling to the ground in a heap. He lay near Jack, shuddering from the pain and shock to his body. His eyes opened, the thin sliver of daylight seeped into his vision. He saw Jack, his eyes resolutely locked with his, right before he blacked out.

When he awoke, his back ached. He tried shifting his position, but realized he was lashed onto the Indians’ stallion. Following behind him, he saw the horse he and Jack took from the colonist who came to return Ennis to Salem Village for his hanging. Jack had been tied behind the Indian with the bloody deerskin clothing. The two braves rode the grullo. Ennis attempted to wriggle free from his bindings, to no avail. He sighed and tried to conserve his strength for a time when he might have another opportunity to escape.

The party traveled only a short distance before they entered the Indians’ camp. Although the day was warm, a fire had been started in the pit that Ennis presumed the center of the tribe’s domain. Dome-shaped dwellings dotted the surrounding valley. Birch bark and animal skins covered each unit, a patchwork of insulation against the weather.

Indians of all ages greeted the four tribesmen, curious about the white men they captured on their outing. They chattered away in their native tongue, words that neither Jack nor Ennis could understand. 

Ennis felt the knife slice through the ties that attached him to the horse. An Indian stood on each side of him, reaching under his arms, pulling him to his feet. They dragged him to one of the small birch-covered wigwams and forced him inside. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he took in the simple dirt floor and the long support poles. Moments later, the door flap opened and Jack was shoved through the entryway, landing next to him. Ennis scrambled over, panting through his gagged mouth.

There were no words to be spoken, only their hushed breath streaming out and back again. Ennis rested his throbbing head on Jack’s shoulder. He heard Jack’s heart racing as fast as his own. They needed to remain calm. They needed to be able to communicate in order to plan their escape. Ennis worked his fingers so they met with Jack’s. He traced the skin to where Jack’s wrists were tied and began to work on the knots. He hadn’t made much progress when two Indians lifted the door flap, seized Jack by the arms, and dragged him out of the wigwam.


	14. Chapter 14

_Ennis worked his fingers so they met with Jack’s. He traced the skin to where Jack’s wrists were tied and began to work on the knots. He hadn’t made much progress when two Indians lifted the door flap, seized Jack by the arms, and dragged him out of the wigwam._

Ennis scrambled to his feet and tried to go after them, his boots kicking up dust from the dirt floor. At least if he and Jack were together, they might stand a chance against the savages. Perhaps fortune would favor them with another opportunity to escape.

A loaded bow stopped Ennis in his tracks. The grunting Indian in the doorway made it clear that Ennis was not to follow. He slumped back down into the dirt, wincing at the discomfort of having his hands bound. Tilting his head from side to side, he stretched the muscles of his cramped neck. He rocked his shoulders back and forth, trying to loosen the bindings, but made little progress.

Outside the wigwam, animals bleated and squawked in the warm air. Ennis scuttled over to the doorway and searched for a gap in the birch bark that might allow him a glimpse of what had happened to Jack. He peered through a triangular opening where two pieces of the bark didn’t quite meet.

The setting sun cast a golden glow over the Indian village. People moved about, performing their evening chores. The guard’s legs passed by the gap, temporarily blocking Ennis’s view. He willed the young Indian to keep moving so he could see again, and was glad when the patrol continued around the circumference of the little shelter. Ennis’s thankful breath rattled through the gag that silenced any words he may have formed.

He quieted his breathing and listened for some whisper of Jack’s voice. He would have given anything to see Jack’s face in the doorway, Jack grabbing him by the arms and cutting away his restraints. Jack urging Ennis to run with him because he had disabled the Indians and they could now escape together. But as the long minutes passed, Ennis became more worried. And, as the minutes turned into an hour, the imagined whispers became the soft moans of Jack’s dying pleas, as he was roasted alive over a bed of glowing coals.

Ennis sank to the dirt and hung his head low. His head ached, both from the growing knot that still swelled from being clobbered with the boulder, and from the frustration of not knowing what would happen to him next and what was happening to Jack now.

“Dapkenem,” the voice outside the door muttered.

Ennis looked up, sure that he would see the savages who would haul him away to his death. Instead, Jack lifted the flap of the doorway. Ennis squinted against the soft light that filtered through the opening, before smiling with relief. Jack was no longer bound. He carried an armload of blankets and furs. His mouth opened freely, angry red scrapes where the twine had cut into the flesh of his pale cheeks. The blood from his nose had been washed away. Droplets of water glistened on his hair. He reached out to clasp Ennis’s shoulder with a steady hand.

“It’ll be alright,” Jack said, his eyes unblinking. “Just tell the truth.” He gave Ennis’s shoulder a squeeze before two Indians shepherded him from the wigwam, leaving Jack to wait alone.

Ennis walked down the meandering path, the guards correcting him when they reached an intersection. They passed wigwams of all sizes and gardens bursting with vegetables, before they arrived in a clearing at the edge of the woods. Several Indians gathered at the primitive meeting place in the center of the field. Ennis’s guards each held an arm, guiding him to the assembly.

The steady rhythm of a single drum penetrated the air. In the distance, Ennis noticed Indians seated on the thick logs that surrounded a fire pit. In addition to the young brave beating on the drum, a woman knelt by the low stones and tended to some simmering concoction that she stirred with a long wooden stick. Ennis slowed his approach, but his guards hustled him forward.

The pounding on the drum grew louder as Ennis came closer. When he arrived in the circle, his guards positioned him in front of the man who he presumed was their leader. The Indian’s face wore deeper lines than the others, and he dressed regally in comparison to the bland animal skins worn by the rest of the tribe. In addition to the deerskin breechcloth and leather leggings, he wore a vest of brilliant colors. Red, orange, yellow, like a sunset wrought by berries and long hours in the dying vat. Dangling beads and feathers fell from his hair. He asserted his authority with a wave of his hand, signaling the drummer to stop pounding out the tribe’s ancient song.

The Indian scrutinized Ennis with hard eyes, nearly black in color. “Poniala,” he commanded.

Ennis panted gratefully as a guard removed the gag from his mouth and sliced through the twine that bound his wrists, the rough brown strands falling to the ground. Ennis nearly collapsed, his arms stiff from having been behind his back for so long. He swung them forward and enjoyed their new freedom.

“Please,” spoke the Indian leader. “Sit down.”

“What?” Ennis asked in surprise, working his jaw up and down to restore the circulation.

“Do you understand English?” asked the Indian.

“Of course I do, but I didn’t expect you to speak my language.”

The Indian spoke calmly, his forehead flat and uncreased, “The leaders of our tribe know that they must be able to communicate with the settlers who come from places like England, so we have taken time to learn. It is unfortunate that you have not learned the language of the people on whose homeland you chose to settle. Please sit.”

Ennis stood tall, ready to take on a challenge, but soon realized that he had better cooperate when he saw the two guards move to draw their bows against him. He blew out a tense breath and sat on the log as he was directed.

“Tell me your name,” spoke the leader.

Ennis shifted uncomfortably on the log. He didn’t want to tell the Indians anything, but he remembered what Jack had said at the wigwam. Tell the truth. “Ennis,” he said. “Del Mar.”

Two Indian braves whispered to each other from their position on log bench.

“Ennis Del Mar, my name is Chigabid, and I want to listen to your explanation-”

“Explanation? I haven’t done anything-”

“Silence,” Chigabid demanded. “You will speak only when I ask.”

Chigabid drew a breath and spoke again. “The members of my tribe who were present at the altercation have given their statements. Your companion has done the same. Now, we will document your account of what happened when our braves met you in the forest. You may now speak your answer.”

“Your braves shot an arrow at us, then the men came and held us against our will, beat us, tied us up, and brought us here.”

“What were you doing before the arrow was shot?”

“We weren’t doing anything! They shot at us for no reason. That’s no way to treat the white man that you are trying to communicate with, is it?”

“No. This is not the accepted method of arrow practice for the Abenaki. The brave, who shot the arrow toward you, did so accidentally. For this, we apologize.”

“Well, then. I’ll just be on my way.”

“No,” Chigabid raised his hands. “There is also the matter of you attacking our tribesmen.”

“But that was in self-defense!”

“I agree with you, but your violation is not that simple. You were trespassing on our hunting grounds with the weapons of the white man. We cannot allow this. The white man must not tread on our tribal lands with weapons such as the musket you carried. This act is forbidden by our laws and the laws of the colonists.”

“What? How was I supposed to know that I was on your tribal lands? How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Ennis Del Mar, I am not the chief of my tribe. Chief Ki Badagi has been away with a party of our tribesmen, trading with the settlers who dwell by the ocean. He is expected to return to us in a matter of days. When he returns, he will decide whether you are to be punished or released.”

“So, when we speak to the chief and clear this up, then will we be set free?”

“If it is decided that you are innocent. Until then, we will offer you accommodations. But beware, our generosity in feeding you and letting you live does not guarantee that you will be set free.”

“And what if I am found guilty?”

“Then, you will face your punishment,” Chigabid said, his eyes roaming toward the fire pit.

“What kind of punishment?” Ennis asked, his eyes wide.

Chigabid signaled for the men to add more logs to the fire. “Our discussion is over.” He placed his hands on his thighs and stood. He nodded to the brave with the drum and the young Indian resumed the rhythmic beating of his palms on the skin.

Chigabid moved around the perimeter of the fire pit, thanking each man for attending the assembly. The fire crackled when the new logs were placed onto the coals. Red sparks shot from the glowing pit with a hiss and a snap. The woman who had been tending the food ladled stew into a wooden bowl and offered it to Ennis with a slab of fry bread drenched in grease.

“Gelami,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Ennis. “Gelami.”

“Gelami- enjoy,” smiled the brown-eyed woman.

When Ennis finished eating, he was brought a large bowl of clean water so he could wash his face and hands. Night had fallen when the Indian guards returned him to the wigwam. He fell into Jack’s waiting arms as soon as he was certain that the door flap had closed behind him.


	15. Chapter 15

_When Ennis finished eating, he was brought a large bowl of clean water so he could wash his face and hands. Night had fallen when the Indian guards returned him to the wigwam. He fell into Jack’s waiting arms as soon as he was certain that the door flap had closed behind him._

Jack held on, running his hands up and down his back, soothing, reassuring. The half moon cast a glow onto the walls, light flooding through the gaps in the shelter where the covering had worn thin over time.

“How did it go?” Jack whispered soft, so the guards couldn’t hear.

Ennis let out a shuddering breath, grateful for the feel of Jack’s solid chest against his own, the strong grip of his arms convincing him that they were still alive. His worst fear- that Jack would be gone when he returned to the wigwam- was settled in his mind for now. Jack seemed none worse for wear after his interrogation.

“I think it went all right,” he murmured, inhaling simultaneously through his mouth and his nose, gasping in Jack’s familiar scent. “They told me that they had done the same to you, so when they brought me back here in one piece, I figured that you weren’t harmed. I was worried that they might be lying, though.”

“Did they feed you?”

“Some stew and bread,” he breathed, wary of the guards who might be listening just outside the door. “You, too?”

“Yes, that’s good,” Jack nodded.

“Cleaned you up some,” Ennis noted, brushing Jack’s nose gently with his thumb.

Jack drew back and framed Ennis’s face with his hands. “What about the questioning? Did you answer them?”

“I wanted a fight,” Ennis looked away. “I’m so angry for what they did, but I remembered that you told me to be truthful, so I settled down a bit.”

“Good, and they told you that they’ll probably let us go-”

“If their chief decides that we are innocent. I should have remembered that muskets weren’t allowed on their lands,” Ennis said, stamping his feet in the dirt. “I knew that, but I just didn’t think of it when we were traveling.”

Jack twined his fingers in Ennis’s hair. “Well, their attack was unexpected. We hadn’t seen anyone for days on end. We had no reason to think we would.”

“They asked what we were doing before the arrow struck the tree, but I did some fast talking and got them to change the subject pretty quickly.”

“That’s what I did, too,” said Jack. A smile curled across his mouth in the darkness. “So, do you mean to tell me that the same fellow, who was sent to the stocks and resigned himself to hang, now spends his days convincing hordes of wild Indians that he wants to live?”

Ennis smiled weakly before Jack leaned in and claimed his lips, the kiss tender at first, but soon stoking the fires of passion. Ennis closed his eyes and basked in the heady pleasure, drawing Jack’s bottom lip into his mouth and sucking before raising his hands and moving away.

“No, we can’t. We’ll get caught. The guards are right outside. They’re probably listening to our every word. They speak English, you know,” Ennis hissed.

“Yes, you’re right,” Jack sighed. “I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that they’re keeping us together at all.” Jack took Ennis’s hand and led him to the back of the wigwam.

Ennis stiffened at the touch, but allowed himself to be pulled along. An owl hooted softly in the night air.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep. I threw those blankets over here.”

“Oh, I saw you carrying those when they came to get me. They didn’t give me any blankets,” Ennis remarked.

“Well, I asked for them.”

“You asked for blankets?”

“Yes, I told the tribal council folks that if they expected us to spend the night and didn’t want us to complain to Governor Phips, they’d have to treat us right,” said Jack as he removed his boots. “I took a guess that the Indians believed us to be upstanding citizens of Massachusetts Bay Colony. It would do them no good to offend the colonists, it could start a full scale war. I think that’s why they gave us food and blankets.”

Ennis laughed. “Well, you’ve got some nerve.”

“I suppose you can count yourself lucky that you are in my good graces, and I’ll share with you,” Jack smiled, spreading the blankets and furs out on the dirt floor before sitting cross-legged on top of the pile.

Ennis knelt on the furs and smoothed them with the flat of his palm. “Feels nice,” he said.

“Come on, lie down,” said Jack. He held onto Ennis’s hand as he slid under the furs and reclined next to the wall.

Ennis kicked off his boots and let out a long sigh. “It feels good to not be tied up.”

“Loosen up, you. Unclench those fists,” said Jack, working his fingers into Ennis’s palm, unfurling the thumb and each finger in turn. “You’re wound tighter than a harpsichord string.”

Ennis let Jack rub his hands with the pads of his fingers, the tension draining out of him like magic.

“Did you notice what else we have?” asked Jack, eyeing the cookpot that sat in the shadows of the wigwam while he worked his hands.

Ennis lifted his head and chuckled, “Oh, no, tell me they didn’t give you back the recorder. Please say it’s not true.”

“They brought our things by, while you were being questioned. It looks like they gave us everything back, except the musket and the knife, of course. I suppose they don’t know the damage I can do with a musical instrument,” Jack smiled, his eyes glinting in the filtered moonlight.

“No, I’m sure they don’t,” laughed Ennis, raising a hand to his head. “Ow, my head hurts when I laugh.”

“How’s that bump? Let me see,” Jack said. He shifted and let his hand linger above Ennis’s hair.

“I doubt you can see anything. You can feel it, though,” Ennis guided Jack’s hand to the egg-sized knot that rose from his skull.

Jack prodded, his fingers moving slowly. Their hushed voices became silent, only the steady sound of their breathing rose above the quiet night. “At least it wasn’t bleeding,” Jack said before taking his hand away, letting his fingers untangle the strands of hair.

“Your face,” said Ennis reaching up to stroke along Jack’s cheek. “I saw the cuts on your face when they took me away. Must have been from the twine.”

“It feels better now, the wounds will heal, no matter how deep,” Jack said. “Now, turn over, and we might be able to get some sleep. I have no doubt that they will wake us early, and put us to good work.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Ennis, rolling to his side, facing the wigwam wall.

“What?” Jack slid in behind and nudged Ennis’s legs with his own. “Stretch your legs out.”

“That they’re going to make us work?” Ennis groaned as the muscles flexed when he pointed his toes.

“That’s what they told me,” said Jack, pressing his legs against the equal length of Ennis’s.

“They didn’t tell me that.”

“You probably didn’t ask,” said Jack, wrapping his arm around Ennis’s shoulders to rest a hand against his chest. “I asked them what they were going to do with us while we waited for the chief to return. They said they’d find something to keep us busy.”

“Really? I never would have thought to ask them that. I thought they’d just keep us tied up or something.”

“Well, it’s my guess that they’ll have a lot of preparations to make for the wedding.”

“Wedding?”

“Yes, on the new moon,” Jack tapped his hand restlessly. “When is that, a fortnight away?”

“Who’s getting married?”

“The chief’s daughter. She’s marrying that fellow with the odd haircut, the one who shot the arrow at us, what’s his name-”

“Jack?”

“What?”

“You found all this out when they took you over to that firepit for questioning?”

“Yes, they didn’t tell you?” Jack rubbed his toes along the bottom of Ennis’s foot. “Mega… something… it means ‘eagle’ in their language…”

Ennis grunted. “I don’t care what it means. I’d like for us to get out of here.” He took Jack’s hand and pulled his arm tighter around him. “Do you think we should try to escape?”

Jack pressed a kiss to Ennis’s hair before he spoke, “I’ve been thinking that we should just do whatever they ask of us, while we wait for the chief to get back. If we cooperate, it might help our chances of being found innocent.”

“Did they tell you when the chief would be back?”

“Well, he’s got to be back for the wedding. In the meantime we can look for an opportunity to escape, but I think they’ll keep the guards on us. Ordinarily, I’d try it, but we’re quite outnumbered,” Jack said, hitching his leg over Ennis’s hip.

“And you don’t think we’ll be served as the main course for the wedding feast?” Ennis reached back and smoothed his hand over the seat of Jack’s trousers, pulling him in closer.

“No, but I am worried that the chief’s trading party will find out about the shipwreck and your witchcraft accusation. They might hold it against us in addition to the musket violation. We can only escape justice for so long, if word travels this far.”

“Mmm, I think as soon as we get out of here, whether we manage to escape or be set free, we should make a beeline for K.E.’s place.”

“It sounds like the only safe thing to do. Maybe enough time has passed for the hysteria to have died down in Salem by now.”

“I hope so.”

“Ennis?”

“Yes?”

“This fur would feel nice if we were naked.”

Ennis admonished Jack by bucking back with his hips. “Go to sleep.”

They slept to the occasional muted rumble of the guards’ conversation and their moccasins whispering along the earth outside the wigwam.


	16. Chapter 16

_They slept to the occasional muted rumble of the guards’ conversation and their moccasins whispering along the earth outside the wigwam._

When the first rays of dawn streamed across the sky, Ennis opened his eyes. He had turned away from the wall in the night, rotating into Jack’s warm body, his face buried in his neck. The soft hum of the guards’ voices, and rustle of their movements, blended with the distant sounds of the village coming alive for another day.

The light and noise combined to wake Jack, who stirred gradually beside him. Jack usually slept through Ennis’s snoring and any other night sounds made by the creatures of the forest. But this morning, Ennis could feel the difference in the cautious movements of Jack’s waking body as his limbs remembered that they were no longer alone in their forest paradise, but captives awaiting their judgment.

Ennis burrowed his face deeper into Jack’s neck and the men settled into stillness again. When he was quiet, Ennis could hear the village noises and imagined what purpose the various sounds served. The women would be talking to each other while they kneaded dough for the bread to feed the tribe. The braves and warrior savages probably tended the fire and prepared the meat to be roasted for the daily meals. If he inhaled deeply, Ennis could almost smell the mixture of herbs as they wafted through the air. He could picture the young Indian children running and playing, their high-pitched voices squealing in delight while the older siblings harvested what vegetables and fruits had ripened overnight.

The muted sounds seemed to fade as the light grew stronger. The sun washed over the village, making the noise less significant than the bright rays of daybreak that summoned the world to a new day. Jack rubbed his chin across Ennis’s forehead, Ennis feeling the smile on his lips.

“What-” Ennis began to say when he first felt Jack’s fingertips slip below his waistband, but before he could get a word out, Jack had pushed him onto his back and was sliding along Ennis’s body beneath the furs, reaching under his shirt, his hot hands pushing the fabric up so he could pet the sleepy naked skin of his torso. Ennis’s abdominal muscles contracted with the unexpected sensation. Jack took his time tasting the golden hairs that surrounded his nipples as his mouth worked its way across Ennis’s chest and lower, relentlessly pursuing a morning romp, Indians be damned.

“Jack…” Ennis pinched Jack’s ear hard in an effort to make him stop, but Jack’s mouth had already found the ripened fruit that he sought to harvest.

“Shh,” Jack whispered, his fingers impatiently working the buttons and ties that held Ennis’s trousers secure.

Ennis let Jack’s ear slip away, but he yanked on the strands of dark hair while Jack panted in frustration with the clothing. Ennis knew one thousand reasons why he should insist that Jack stop at once. But his body rebelled against reason, and neither the Indian guards outside, nor the sounds of the awakening village, could make him change the direction that his desire led him. He strained upward while Jack pushed the trousers down, finally freeing Ennis’s aching cock, betrayed by the sudden dawn and the soft furs that let him slumber more unconsciously than he intended.

“What are you doing?” Ennis gasped, raising his head.

When Jack blew a warm breath on the newly exposed flesh, Ennis sank back down into the fur. His fingers gripped the pelts, soft against his calloused hands. He tried not to worry, but his mind raced.

He imagined the look on the guards’ faces when they found out what was going on. They would surely get an eyeful. Jack kneeling next to him, his head buried under the covers, his ass up in the air, hips moving rhythmically back and forth as he grinded against Ennis’s thigh.

He felt the heat of Jack’s mouth as he swirled his tongue across the tip of his erection before sliding his lips down the shaft. Ennis clamped his teeth down on the edge of an animal skin to keep himself from crying out. Jack stayed still for a moment, a vibrating hum of pleasure in his throat. Ennis let his hands roam beneath the skins and found Jack’s head. He rubbed circles across his scalp, urging him to move.

Outside, a chipmunk trilled.

“Naji!” called an Indian’s voice, reminding Ennis again that there was another world beyond the wigwam walls.

Ennis felt Jack’s fingers smoothing the skin of his balls while the other snaked up his shirt, brushing a nipple when he found one, his mouth still on him.

Jack tried to work his hand between Ennis’s thighs, but the trousers blocked the way. He slipped his lips off his cock and whispered, “Come on.” He elbowed Ennis’s leg and Ennis shifted enough so Jack could nudge the trousers down further.

Jack shoved his fingers into Ennis’s mouth. Ennis sucked on the digits, his hand grabbing and holding the fingers in place while his tongue coated them with moisture. His cock was ready to explode when Jack put his mouth back on him, making that sweet moaning sound in his throat again.

Ennis spread his thighs a little, but Jack had stopped stroking his balls and now braced his other hand on Ennis’s chest. By the hot breath and stifled gasps that escaped Jack’s mouth, Ennis could tell that he was putting his own hand to himself.

He really couldn’t blame Jack. He listened to him scrambling to unfasten his trousers with one hand. Having his fingers sucked while his lips were sliding down Ennis’s cock had proven too much for the man to endure. Still, Ennis couldn’t stand leaving Jack to satisfy his need on his own. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting him spend his sweet creamy seed all over some animal’s pelt.

Ennis reached down to lend him a hand. He twisted his body sideways and tried to grab Jack, but it was no use.

He fell back into the furs, enjoying the movement of Jack’s mouth on him, when suddenly he knew what he needed to do. He shifted up to a sitting position, his eyes half-closed with passion. The motion knocked Jack’s arm out from under him and he sprawled toward Ennis’s feet. Ennis tugged on Jack’s trousers, pulling Jack onto him. The desire to feel the man in his mouth overwhelmed him. The need to make Jack feel the same way that he made Ennis feel became Ennis’s sole objective.

Ennis pushed and pulled Jack until he undulated into position, his warm body moving beneath Ennis’s hands until each knee thumped down into the furs on either side of Ennis’s head. Jack understood his intentions, and took Ennis’s cock deep inside his mouth again without much interruption.

Ennis used both hands to tear at the loosened fabric of Jack’s trousers and found Jack’s flesh, eager and ready. The village sounds and guards’ voices seemed meaningless now. The bright light streaming into the wigwam let Ennis see clearly that only one thing mattered. He licked the leaking droplets of anticipation from the end of Jack’s cock and inhaled the familiar scent of Jack and lust and semen threatening to erupt.

He maneuvered his neck so he could take man’s cock in, just as Jack did the same to him in the unseen depths of the furs. The delicious feeling of Jack’s hot mouth sliding up and down his length and his exploring fingers moving over his skin made Ennis unable to concentrate on his own task. After indulging in the solitary pleasure for a few selfish moments, he finally let his body take over in its reaction to Jack’s mouth and fingers while he focused on giving as good as he was getting.

His fingers caught in Jack’s wiry hairs as he held the man’s cock in place, sucking in as much of him as he could manage. He hoped the guards wouldn’t become suspicious of the saliva welling spurts and flesh slapping smacks that emerged from the wigwam. He sucked Jack’s cock until it hit the back of his throat. Jack’s tight balls bumped against his nose in rhythm with his pumping hips. Ennis wrapped his arms around Jack’s thighs, trying to slow the man’s movements.

He played at letting a finger trace down the crack, making the man shake and moan a low animal sound. He caught a fingertip of moisture from where his mouth met Jack’s cock and pressed the spit slicked finger to the edge of Jack’s rosebud while he tottered on his own precarious brink. That was all it took to make Jack’s sweet nectar bubble to the surface.

Ennis refused to gag as the hot spray coated the back of his throat, swallowing Jack’s release as it came. And then, as if the one led to the other, Ennis let himself slip over the edge of the waterfall and plunge into the warm pool of steaming swirling water, brought on by Jack’s ministrations. He seized Jack’s head so hard with his legs when the orgasm hit him, he told himself he must apologize for it later.

Jack swallowed him down and caressed Ennis’s thighs, not letting go until Ennis began to soften in his mouth. Then he turned around and crawled back through the furs so he was facing Ennis again.

He nodded once, blue eyes gleaming. “I’ve got something of yours,” he said, pausing for a moment before dipping his tongue into Ennis’s mouth for a long exploration of the flavor that lingered there.

“I think I’ve got something of yours, too,” Ennis said, after they pulled apart, unable to suppress his laughter.

“Let’s see,” said Jack as he moved closer for another kiss. Their mouths met, tongues sliding and each searching for a taste of themselves on the other. Ennis closed his eyes as he felt himself begin to harden again, but the spell was broken when a guard rapped his knuckles on the door.

“Let’s go you two! We’ve got work to do.”


	17. Chapter 17

_“Let’s go you two! We’ve got work to do.”_

Ennis jerked his head toward the door, his eyes wide with fear. The impatient rapping and the gruff Indian voice told him that his blissful morning with Jack had come to an end. He was a prisoner awaiting judgment, and his captor’s arrival shattered the illusion of peace and safety that he had enjoyed inside the wigwam. Ennis scrambled out from beneath the furs, shoving Jack off as he clambered to his feet. He fastened his trousers before realizing he had knocked Jack to the dirt.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching out a hand to help Jack up. Their eyes met in the soft morning light. Ennis clasped Jack’s arm, stroking the muscled flesh beneath the fabric with his thumb. No further apology was needed.

“Wijawi! Come!” called the Indian.

“Are you ready?” Jack whispered.

Ennis finished tucking his shirt into his trousers and nodded. Jack lifted the tanned animal skin that draped across the door and the men ducked their heads to pass through the opening.

A mist hung in the air outside the wigwam, muting the colors of the distant purple hills. The smell of food was strong. It wafted from the firepit, beckoning their empty bellies.

The guards led the men through the village to the assembly area. Indians of all ages had gathered to sit on the wooden benches that surrounded the central fire. Ennis tried to guess how many Indians were there, but lost count after fifty tribesmen. The guards motioned for them to sit. Ennis grunted an acknowledgement. He and Jack shared a space on the thick log while their guards talked nearby.

In the center of the meeting area, Ennis watched as Indian women removed packages of food from the fire, pinching them between long sticks and tossing them into woven baskets. When all the food had been dug from the coals, an elderly woman with long white braids and a blue striped dress stood at the front of the crowd. Ennis believed she must be a tribal elder because of her advanced age and striking clothing. She tapped out a rapid beat on her drum until all eyes were on her. In a commanding voice, she announced “Gal kwat.” She looked toward Ennis and Jack, and said, “Present your bowls.”

Ennis looked questioningly at Jack, but he got his answer before he could ask, when a guard handed them each a wooden bowl.

“Hold onto this if you want to eat,” he said.

“Thank you,” said Jack.

Ennis let out a nervous breath. He sighed when the guard took his seat on the bench behind them.

Several women of the tribe walked among the benches, bearing wooden platters piled with fruit and carrying baskets of the cooked food packages.

Ennis and Jack gratefully accepted the food from the young Indian woman who brought her basket to them. She laughed when she watched Ennis blow on his fingers to cool them first, before he juggled the package from her basket into his bowl.

“Thank you kindly,” said Jack, taking a package. “Don’t mind my friend, here.”

He nudged Ennis with his shoulder before the woman smiled and moved to the next bench.

Ennis tore at the cornhusk to unwrap the steaming contents. The sweet aroma of roasted fish and cornmeal, laced with sweet boiled maple sap, escaped into the air. Ennis watched the Indians to see how they managed to eat the food. He noticed that they held the cornhusk and ate without the need for a knife and fork, so he and Jack did the same.

The Indians spoke to each other while they ate, the rumble of voices rolling through the crowd.

“Sure wish I knew what they were saying,” said Ennis, taking a bite.

“Maybe we can learn some of their language, as long as we’re going to be here,” said Jack.

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

Ennis noticed Chigabid approaching as they finished eating. He no longer wore the brightly colored fabrics from the previous evening. He dressed in tan deerskin like the common Indians, blending in with the population of his village. Ennis only recognized him because his wrinkled brow distinguished him from his younger tribesmen. Ennis believed he was wiser than the typical heathens, too. After all, he hadn’t rushed to judge them before questioning every man involved in the arrow incident.

“Ennis, Jack, you enjoyed your meal?” Chigabid asked.

“We appreciate you sharing your food with us,” said Jack. “Your people seem to have plenty.”

“The tribe that eats well will stay strong,” said Chigabid.

“I can see that,” said Ennis.

“Your braves put up quite a fight when we met them in the woods,” said Jack.

“They were only following the orders of our leader. I do not think it wise to discuss the matter further. We have work for you to do while we await the return of Ki Badagi,” Chigabid said, clasping his hands together.

“Have you decided what we will be doing?” asked Jack.

Chigabid signaled for one of the Indians to come near.

“Ennis, you will go with Kagelolit. You can help him with a weaving project.”

Ennis looked the Indian over. He was at least as tall as Ennis, lean and muscular, with grey eyes. He wore his wispy hair in a single long braid that reached down to his waist.

“Ennis,” Kagelolit said. “If you are finished eating, we can go.”

“What about Jack?” Ennis asked.

“Jack, I will take you to the tribesmen who are planting,” said Chigabid. “You will be helping them today.”

Jack rose to his feet and prepared to leave with Chigabid. Before they separated, Ennis gave Jack a final look. His calm blue eyes, full of dreams as big as the sky, reassured Ennis that if he cooperated with the Indians, everything would be fine.

Ennis followed Kagelolit out of the assembly area. He should have known Chigabid would separate him from Jack. The Indians would be fools if they kept their two detainees together all day, giving them valuable time to plan an escape. Ennis hoped they would keep him and Jack in the same wigwam at night, but if the guards had heard all the noise they made this morning, they probably ruined their chances of sleeping together again. He let his tongue stroke the roof of his mouth, tasting Jack’s flavor that still lingered there. A smile came to his lips when he remembered, but he quickly reined it in, not wanting Kagelolit to question what Ennis was so pleased about.

Ennis followed Kagelolit to the edge of a clearing where the white birches stood tall. Dozens of long ribbons hung from their branches, floating in the summer breeze. Two spools of spun thread waited for the men’s attention. They hung like corpses from a hangman’s noose, suspended in mid air by two woven ribbons, half-completed in their construction. 

“What’s all this?” Ennis asked.

“Ribbons for the marriage pole,” said Kagelolit. We need to finish weaving them and dying them. We do not have much time.”

“Marriage pole?” Ennis asked, knitting his eyebrows together.

“Every member of the tribe will tie a ribbon to the pole for the marriage of Megeso and Aliwa. It is part of the Abenaki marriage ceremony. We need to dye the ribbons for the two colors of their clans- after we finish making them.”

“Megeso?” Ennis scowled. “I know that name.”

“The brave who fought with you in the forest,” Kagelolit nodded. “He will be marrying Ki Badagi’s daughter when her father returns from his journey to trade with the colonists.”

“This is for his wedding?”

“Yes, he was helping me weave the ribbons, but his uncle is very angry with him for carelessly shooting arrows. He is busy digging a new latrine today,” Kagelolit chuckled.

“You don’t sound too impressed with him,” Ennis smiled.

“No, I am not,” Kagelolit laughed. “Come, I will show you how to weave the ribbons.”

Kagelolit took a spool and placed it in Ennis’s hands. 

“First you twist it like this,” Kagelolit said, as he guided Ennis’s fingers along the thread. “Then you loop the loose end over like that.”

“Like this?” asked Ennis, demonstrating what Kagelolit had shown him.

“Yes, good. Then, you tie a knot and pull, so the thread tightens.”

Kagelolit stood a breath away from Ennis, observing his technique.

“Yes, then repeat it, until the ribbon reaches the ground.”

“Seems easy enough,” said Ennis.

“Let us just say there are worse tasks than standing around tying knots all day,” Kagelolit grinned.

“I suppose so,” Ennis laughed, twirling the spool and tying his next knot.

The men worked through the morning and the ribbons grew longer. Ennis was surprised that Chigabid wanted him to weave the ribbons for the marriage pole. “Isn’t this something sacred to your people? he asked. “Why would they let an outsider, like me, work on a project like this?”

“If every tribesman wove his own ribbon, the project would take longer to finish,” Kagelolit explained. “The other braves would be removed from the tasks that are important to the tribe’s well-being. That is why the leaders assign only two workers to the project.”

“I can see why Chigabid wants me to work on it,” said Ennis, his fingers skimming the threads with ease. “I’m expendable, but why would he want you here?”

Kagelolit grew quiet. “I worked on the ribbons with Megeso. Ki Badagi wanted us together because we do not get along,” he said, shaking his head. “He hoped we would be able to settle our differences.”

“I see,” said Ennis. After a moment he asked, “Did it work?”

“With matters of the heart, there are no easy solutions,” Kagelolit said, continuing to weave. “You know what it is like to be in love,” he added.

“How do you figure that? I was engaged once, but it didn’t work out the way I planned,” said Ennis.

“Because you are mashag?”

“Mashag?”

“Queer.”

The word stopped Ennis dead in the middle of a knot. His first reaction was to clench his fists and prepare to swing from the deck.


	18. Chapter 18

_“Queer.”_

_The word stopped Ennis dead in the middle of a knot. His first reaction was to clench his fists and prepare to swing from the deck._

Kagelolit saw the spool drop from Ennis’s hands and bounce to the ground, the thread unwinding like a thin snake that lay coiled and ready to strike from the grass.

“Ennis?” he turned his head in time to see Ennis’s eyes narrow, his hands balled into fists.

Ennis didn’t think. The words _“I’m no queer,”_ formed on his lips, ready to be gritted out in his next breath, followed by a flurry of punches.

He cocked his right fist.

The sound of the word escaping the savage’s mouth filled Ennis with rage. The single word had the power to condemn Ennis to death by torture, if not by the man-made devices of the witch hunters, then by the torture he imposed upon himself every day that he loathed and denied his nature. He had seen the inquisitor’s implements tear the flesh of the accused. He had felt the seed of shame planted deep by his father, a seed cultivated by his own fears ever since he was a young boy. The seed now threatened to blossom into uncontained rebellion with the Indian’s utterance of the word. Ennis wasn’t going to let some heathen without the common laws of men, call him queer. He would deal with the Indian the only way he knew how.

His fist moved forward through the stifling summer air, his reflexes sharp and his forearm strong from a life of labor.

In an instant, Ennis anticipated the outcome of his actions. The tribesmen would rally around Kagelolit, his face smeared with blood, nose broken, the gurgling in his throat quelled long enough for him to name his attacker. Ennis heard the Indians whooping their war cry as they charged after him on horseback and on foot, arrows drawn, and tomahawks ready to split his skull. The scalping knife unsheathed, and ready to remove flesh and hair from bone.

Never again would Ennis feel Jack’s fingers tug on a curly lock until it straightened, taking a long full breath before releasing the golden spring, exhaling before starting over again, pinching lazy fingers to hair in the quiet warmth of a summer night.

Thoughts of Jack weakened Ennis’s muscles, and made his aim less sure.

Jack would be angry. Ennis could hear his voice asking what he hoped to achieve by taking a swing at the Indian. _For what? The Indian meant you no harm. You need to think some before you get all fired up. He meant nothing by it- asking about your past, wondering if you were married- just two men having a friendly conversation to pass the time and make a boring task seem interesting. He could have killed you by now, if he wanted to. But here you are, with your fist flying through the air. There’s nothing I can do to help you, and you have ruined both our chances for freedom._

Ennis followed through with the punch, unable to stop the momentum. Kagelolit moved aside at the last moment, still holding his spool in one hand.

Ennis stumbled when his fist missed its target. He staggered and doubled over. His hands landed on his knees, his chest heaving with a mixture of fear and relief.

The silence that had flooded Ennis’s mind, giving his thoughts a chance to form, now washed away with the physical action. His stomach churned and he let the saliva and snot flow from his mouth and nose, strings of mucous reaching the sparse grass and flat ground of their work area. The birds sang again. The leaves still rustled in the summer breeze. Somewhere in the Indian’s camp, Jack worked obliviously at a menial, but necessary, task. The dirt at Ennis’s feet grew dark and absorbed the product of his distress.

“Forgive me,” Kagelolit said, exhaling a held breath, and bending to meet Ennis’s eyes. His long braid dangled, almost touching the ground.

“What?” Ennis turned his head, squinting at the Indian’s calm expression, the fluid still streaming from his mouth and nose.

“I spoke too much.” Kagelolit placed a hand on Ennis’s shuddering back. “I said too many words.”

“You did-” Ennis stammered and heaved.

“I see your suffering,” Kagelolit said, taking his hand off Ennis’s back and turning a palm to the sky. “I should not have spoken those words.”

Ennis stood upright, “I shouldn’t have taken that swing,” he said, wiping a shirtsleeve across his mouth. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble.”

“I did not mean to insult you. I forget that the white man does not respect the two-spirit people.”

“I’m not… I…” Ennis shook his head, struggling for air.

“I only guessed it was the reason why your engagement did not end in marriage.”

Ennis pressed a finger to the side of his nose and cleared his nostrils into the dirt.

“Come, let us sit and rest awhile,” Kagelolit tugged at Ennis’s arm, drawing him to the shade of the trees. “We have worked long this morning. Let us stop to partake in food and drink.”

Ennis allowed himself to sit on the ground, his long legs clad in filthy trousers folded under him. The thick birch tree supported his back.

Kagelolit sat next to Ennis at the base of the tree, legs crossed. He rummaged through the deerskin bag he had brought.

Ennis accepted an apple that Kagelolit produced. He bit into the skin, tearing at the fruit, the chewing and swallowing motions made his breathing steadier. 

“What is this two-spirit person that you’re talking about?” Ennis finally spoke.

Kagelolit ripped a piece of fry bread in half and handed it to Ennis. “There are members of our tribe who carry both the spirit of the hunter and the spirit of the healer within them.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ennis asked, accepting the bread.

“You saw them at your questioning with Chigabid.”

“I don’t remember. How would I know them?”

“You would not notice that they are different.” Kagelolit shook his head.

“How are they different?” Ennis questioned, swallowing hard.

“They are two men who live together, as do married people in your custom.”

Ennis tried to think about the time when he was in the assembly, but he couldn’t recall anything unusual. “I don’t remember seeing anything like that,” he said, taking another bite of the sweet apple.

“You would not. Kikaimen and Walhana look just like any other Indian to the white man.”

“And your tribe doesn’t punish them? They are allowed to live among you?” Ennis asked, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“They are important members of our tribe. They perform healing rituals that ordinary men cannot. They are also among our best hunters,” Kagelolit nodded.

“What about you?” Ennis asked, guessing the answer already. “Are you… a two-spirit person?” Ennis finished the last bite of the apple, leaving only the seeded core and stem between his fingers.

Kagelolit took a deep breath. “No, it was not meant to be.”

“Why not?” Ennis pressed. “I mean, you make it sound like a good thing.”

Kagelolit took the core out of Ennis’s hand. “It would be an honor to perform the rituals of the two-spirited people, but I have no choice in the matter,” Kagelolit smiled. “It is decided by the Great Spirit. Besides, I am in love with a female.” With that, he cocked his arm and threw the core far the woods. 

“In love with a female?” Ennis snorted. “Maybe we’ll be making marriage ribbons for you next?”

Kagelolit lowered his eyes. “That will not be possible.”

“Why not?” asked Ennis.

“The girl I am in love with, Megeso’s sister, Owassa. She was married to a brave from another tribe. I made my plea. I demonstrated my virtues, but it was not good enough. Ki Badagi promised her to another brave.”

Ennis breathed deeply. “Why?” he asked. “You seem like a worthy husband.”

“White men are not the only people who find fault with those who are different. Look at my eyes. They are not the color eyes of anyone in my tribe. My grandmother, she was a white woman. She gave me these grey eyes. These eyes that Ki Badagi deemed unworthy for Owassa.” Kagelolit sifted dirt through his fingers, flicking the bigger pieces of gravel away.

“I’m sorry,” Ennis said, seeing the sadness in Kagelolit’s eyes.

“Do not be too sorry for me. On the new moon, I will leave this place and travel to Owassa. She will be ready to come and start a new life with me. This is my secret. I trust you to keep it, as I will keep what I believe to be your secret.”

“That you think I’m-”

“It is nobody’s business but yours,” Kagelolit stopped Ennis before he could finish. “We will say no more about it.”

“I still worry. If my people became suspicious, I would be killed.”

“You have done nothing wrong. Come, let us continue our weaving. Do not let my misspoken words stop our progress.”

Ennis got to his feet and tucked in his shirt. “I was going to hit you. I need to stay out of trouble while I’m here.”

“It is already forgotten,” Kagelolit said with a wave of his hand.

Ennis picked up the spool from the ground. He wound the threads back to their position. “If you say so,” Ennis said, resuming his weaving alongside Kagelolit. “Although I don’t understand why.”

Kagelolit worked diligently at his ribbon. After a few moments, he spoke, “It may amuse you, to know the meaning of my name.”

“What?” Ennis asked, slowing his work.

“The meaning of Kagelolit, in your language.”

Ennis’s hands slid along the threads. “What does it mean?”

Kagelolit paused in his weaving and turned his face to Ennis. “It means- he who talks too much.”

Ennis stopped. He saw Kagelolit flash him a bright smile, his grey eyes sparkling in the sunlight as he threw his head back and roared with laughter. Ennis couldn’t help laughing too. All had been forgiven.


	19. Chapter 19

_All had been forgiven._

The men worked until sweat dripped from their bodies in the afternoon sun. They had completed weaving the ribbons for the marriage pole ceremony. Only the task of dying the long silken fabric remained.

“Let us stop now,” Kagelolit said. “We have worked hard enough for one day.”

“If you call this work,” laughed Ennis. He had spent long days caring for the horses on his landlord’s property, and he remembered the busy hours between sunrise and sundown when he helped his father as a young boy. Strenuous labor had calloused his hands and fatigued his back. A day spent weaving thread into ribbons could hardly be considered work.

Kagelolit bound the ribbons together so they wouldn’t become tangled if the night breeze decided to have its way with them. He shouldered his satchel of supplies and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“I do not know what Chigabid had planned for you this afternoon, but I am going to cool myself in the river. There may be some other braves there. I can take you to the assembly area, or if you wish, you can come to the water with me.”

“You don’t think Chigabid will mind?”

“I think he intended for us to work together today. There will be no argument from him if you go to the river. But, first, I want to stop at my wigwam,” Kagelolit said, tapping the bag with his hand.

“Lead the way,” said Ennis, following Kagelolit from the clearing.

As they walked through the village, Ennis admired the way the wigwams stood apart from each other, allowing the residents some privacy. Kagelolit pointed out that the warriors built their wigwams on the perimeter of the camp. They formed a defensive barrier against an attack from other tribes or the colonists.

Living in a communal village during the summer allowed the Indians to plant crops and socialize with other members of their tribe. During the winter months, the village disbanded and each family moved to a winter camp where they hunted and spent long days in the warmth of their wigwam. When spring came, the tribe reconvened and built a new village where they could farm during the summer months. The Indians never settled in the same valley.

As the years of Kagelolit’s life passed, his tribe drifted further north. Tribal leaders forged deep bonds with the French traders and settlers who fought with the colonists over which band of invaders would reap the riches of the New World.

Kagelolit’s wigwam sat nestled in the pines, a good distance from the center of the village. The dome-shaped structure held the sun’s warmth in all seasons. Like every Indian brave, Kagelolit had built the wigwam himself when he rejoined his tribe after the long winter. He peeled back the door and allowed some of the heat to escape.

“This is like walking into a firepit,” said Kagelolit, disappearing into the shelter. “Feel it.”

Ennis stood at the door of the wigwam, holding his palms out while the hot air escaped. Animal furs lined the floor inside. A few baskets, containing Kagelolit’s possessions, leaned against one wall. Wide panels of birch bark, tied securely into rolls with strips of leather, dangled from the ceiling. A single sheet of bark lay flat on an animal hide. Charcoal smudges on the white surface mingled dark with light to form what could be a face. For an instant, Ennis sensed that he had imposed on the Indian’s sacred ground. He stepped back from the doorway, mumbling to himself about the heat and humidity. Kagelolit emerged smiling, and Ennis put any thoughts of impropriety to rest.

As they walked toward the river, they passed other warriors’ wigwams, keeping to the narrow path that led from Kagelolit’s home to the riverbank. Ennis caught a glimpse of activity through the distant trees as he fell into an easy pace next to his keeper. He heard the laughter of children as they approached the place where the path weaved closer to the water’s edge. A flat expanse of grass stretched out next to the river. When they reached the field, Ennis saw Indians laughing and pointing while they watched other figures running and falling.

Kagelolit grasped Ennis’s arm as they got closer.

“Look,” Kagelolit pointed. “It is your friend.”

Ennis and Kagelolit took their place on the side of the field where a dozen Indians had gathered.

Jack looked nervous. The sweat ran down his forehead, rivulets carving gorges through his dark hair. He balanced the branch in both hands, the wide forked end on his right, a nest of twine woven into the junction of twigs. His shirt hung across the top of the miniature half-wigwam behind him, his naked chest gleaming with sweat.

“What are they doing to him?” Ennis asked.

“Watch,” said Kagelolit.

Thirty yards away, two braves struggled for possession of a round ball of deerskin the size of a child’s fist. They stabbed at the ball, sticks clacking together, shoulders shoving, until one brave emerged from the scuffle, carrying the ball in the web of his branch. The crowd shouted with excitement as both braves ran toward Jack, flanked by the other stick-carrying Indians.

Ennis clenched his jaw.

“Relax, Ennis. It is only a game,” Kagelolit said.

Jack gripped his branch, his eyes focusing on the blur of tanned limbs and flapping breechcloths that ran toward him. The Indian spun on one foot and flung the ball toward Jack. As it whizzed through the air, Jack leaped sideways with outstretched arms, his stick deflecting the ball to a different brave. Jack landed on his side in the dirt, puffs of dust rising up from where his body hit the ground.

“Whoa!” Kagelolit shouted. He joined the other observers in clapping his hands together. 

Ennis scanned the crowd that had gathered. His steady eyes noticed that everyone laughed and applauded, so he did the same.

“Your friend plays well,” Kagelolit said, thumping Ennis on the back. “For a white man,” he added with a laugh.

Jack got to his hands and knees before sitting back on his haunches and waving his stick to the crowd, grinning the whole time. The spectators cheered.

A brave gripped Jack’s hand and tugged him to his feet. Ennis caught Jack’s eye when he rose. Jack waved and smiled at him. Ennis nodded in response. 

“Maybe we will get you out on the playing field soon,” Kagelolit said.

“You might regret it,” said Ennis, his gaze still on Jack. “I’m not nearly as entertaining as he is.”

“You missed him today, while you worked apart from each other. I can see it.” Ennis lowered his head, not answering. Standing in the hot sun all day had made him dizzy. His feelings floated to the surface and the heat exhausted his abilities to push his emotions down to where they belonged.

“Tell you what, let me see who he is working with today. I will invite them to come with us to the river. Wait here,” Kagelolit said, walking away.

Before Ennis could reply, Kagelolit turned, and trotting backward said, “They will be hot and tired after the game. Maybe I can convince them to go.”

Ennis watched Kagelolit run to where Jack stood. Another Indian soon joined them in conversation.

Ennis shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He felt like everyone watched him. He and Jack stood out so visibly among the Indians. Their European clothing and light skin marked them as outsiders. Perhaps they should adopt the Indians’ dress, so if the colonists attacked, at least he and Jack could blend in. An escape attempt seemed unlikely before the chief returned. Ennis held onto the hope that the trading party didn’t learn about his witchcraft accusation or Jack’s involvement in the shipwreck. They needed to remember that the witch hunters and shipmates still sought them, despite the kind treatment they received as captives in the Indians’ camp.

After a moment, Kagelolit returned.

“Papiwaltnit said they are going to continue playing. I told him to meet us downstream. He knows the place. It is just around the corner.”

Ennis took one long look at Jack before he and Kagelolit resumed their trip down the riverbank.

“Thank you for asking them to join us,” said Ennis.

“They will probably want to cool off, too,” said Kagelolit.

Ennis agreed. At the curve in the path, the men descended on stone steps to the water. Here, the course of the river narrowed and dipped through a rocky channel. The white sprays of hemlock foam churned over the rocks before dissipating in the wide flat water below. A few Indians floated in the icy stream. Some dried their naked bodies on the sun-baked boulders that lined the riverbank.

Kagelolit kicked off his moccasins, unfastened his belt, and dropped his breechcloth on the shore. Touching a toe into the welcome chilly water, he must have deemed the temperature acceptable because he splashed forward until he floated in water over his head.

Ennis kept his eyes on the ground. He unbuttoned his shirt and freed the hemmed edge from his trousers. In one swift movement, he removed his remaining clothes. He waded to a deep spot where he could retain some modesty among his captors.

The coldness of the water seeped into Ennis’s skin and cooled his core. The dirt and dust of the day rinsed away, leaving him as clean as a smooth pebble beaten by the pounding flow of the mountain stream.

He stayed in the water until the skin on his fingers began to shrivel. Kagelolit soon had enough of the icy water and flung himself on the shore to dry. Ennis wondered if Jack would arrive soon, when he heard the thunder of hoofbeats above the rush of the water.

Ennis recognized Megeso as he rode his horse to a stop on the riverbank.

“Kagelolit!” Megeso shouted. Kagelolit exchanged words with Megeso while they both eyed Ennis in the water.

“Ennis!” Kagelolit called. “Chief Ki Badagi will be here soon. You cannot be free. We need to tie you up.”


	20. Chapter 20

_“You cannot be free. We need to tie you up.”_

Ennis thought he heard wrong. Perhaps the rush of the river jumbled the words before they reached his ears. He got his footing on the rocky bottom and waded to shore. The cold water swirled around his ankles as he dragged his legs through each step. The chill eliminated any chance that his body would react to the naked braves who lounged on the boulders.

Megeso considered Ennis for a moment. He spat on the ground before digging in his heels and riding back the way he came, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

“I am sorry,” Kagelolit said, tossing Ennis his clothing. “Before he left, the Chief ordered us to restrain our captives until his return. There is nothing I can do.”

Ennis pulled on his trousers while Kagelolit fidgeted with his deerskin breechcloth, lining up the fabric so it was even.

“What’s going to happen now?” Ennis asked, punching his fists through the sleeves of his shirt, the fabric sticking to his wet skin and making dressing difficult.

“We will go to the wigwam. You must be bound and guarded,” Kagelolit said.

“But you know we aren’t going to try to escape,” Ennis said, stamping into his boots.

“I know that, but it is the only way. The Chief left his orders. The tribe will suffer if we do not follow them. Every tribe needs a leader.”

“What about Jack?”

“Megeso already got him.” Kagelolit shoved his hair back from his face, tucking the loose strands into his damp braid.

Ennis paced. He rubbed his knuckles across his forehead, not bothering to button his wet shirt. “Did he hurt him?”

“I do not know.”

“What do you mean- you don’t know?” The water droplets consolidated and flew from each of Ennis’s curls when he spun toward Kagelolit.

Kagelolit glanced at the braves who now dressed themselves to hurry back to the village. “Megeso has a temper,” he whispered. “You already know that. With the Chief gone, Megeso likes to think he is in charge because he will marry the Chief’s daughter.”

“What about Chigabid?”

“Old Chigabid would be no match for Megeso if he became angry.” Kagelolit slipped his feet into his moccasins. “We must hurry.”

Ennis recalled the bloody battering from the last time Megeso got hold of Jack. He reckoned Megeso couldn’t wait for the opportunity to rough him up again.

“Is Jack at the wigwam?” Ennis asked, taking the stone steps two at a time with Kagelolit at his side.  
“Yes, we will go to him, but I need to restrain you when we get there.”

They turned onto the path through the village. The tribe had come alive in the heat of the afternoon. No one lingered as they did earlier when the men ambled to the river. Every movement now served a purpose, the excited chattering of preparation for the Chief and his party’s return.

The men ran past the field and took a shortcut through the trees to get to the wigwam. When they left the woods for the main path, Ennis collided with Azeban, knocking the young brave to the ground.

There was no time to stop. In one movement, Kagelolit helped him up, brushed him off, and resumed their trek across the camp. Ennis didn’t need to be fluent in Abenaki to understand the words that spewed from the brave’s mouth.

When they arrived at the wigwam, Ennis didn’t recognize the guard on duty. Kagelolit spoke to him briefly and motioned Ennis inside.

Ennis lifted the flap and strode through the door.

Jack lay in a heap on the furs, hands tied behind his back. Blood ran from his lip. The trickle flowed down his chin, staining the pelts. He lifted his head.

“What took you so long?” he asked, his words garbled.

“Jack?” Ennis dropped to his knees and leaned in to examine Jack’s face, one hand smoothing the long dark hair out of his eyes. His lip had turned a dark shade of purple. Sweat mingled with the dirt on his naked chest.

“Who’s he?” Jack asked, noticing the Indian.

“He’s a friend, or the closest thing we have to one,” Ennis said, not bothering to whisper.

Ennis glanced up at Kagelolit. “Can I untie him? He’s hurt.”

Kagelolit pursed his lips. “Yes, but…”

Ennis could almost see the struggle taking place in the Indian’s mind.

“Go ahead,” Kagelolit said, blowing out an exasperated breath. “You are not going to listen to me anyway.”

Ennis worked to untie Jack’s wrists. “Your skin’s on fire. You don’t look so good.”

“Me? You should see Megeso,” Jack chuckled.

“I was afraid of that,” said Kagelolit from the doorway.

Jack got a hand free and touched it to his bloody lip. “It hurts to laugh.”

“Can we get some water for him? He’s burning up,” Ennis freed the last of the bindings.

“I will get some,” said Kagelolit. “Can I trust you to not do anything that will get us all killed?”

“He can’t go anywhere. And I won’t leave him, if that’s what you mean.”

Kagelolit nodded and backed through the door, leaving Ennis alone with Jack.

Jack struggled to sit, but his arms wouldn’t support him. His limbs shook in spasms and he fell back, Ennis catching his head before it hit the floor.

“Whoa, take it easy there,” said Ennis.

“Your hands are cold,” mumbled Jack.

“I was swimming in the river,” said Ennis, drawing Jack’s head into his lap.

“Feels good.”

“What happened to your shirt?” he asked, running a cool hand over Jack’s sweaty chest.

“I don’t know. It must have been left behind when Megeso got me.”

“Looks like he got you good,” Ennis said, tracing a thumb along his cheek. He shifted so he could prod Jack’s lip with a tentative finger.

“Won’t be kissing me for awhile,” murmured Jack, his eyes shining in the sunlight that snuck through the cracks in the wigwam walls.

A flush of heat colored Ennis’s cheeks. “We’ll see about that,” he grinned.

Ennis shrugged out of his damp shirt and bunched the sleeve into a ball. He touched it to Jack’s lip. Jack winced at the sensation.

“It hurts,” he said, running his hand along Ennis’s arm.

Ennis guessed that it felt better for Jack to guide his hand while he ministered to the injury. He dabbed the fabric along Jack’s lip, wiping away the blood with his shirt.

“Your shirt’s cold, too.”

Ennis let his eyes roam over Jack’s chest where his damp shirt rested against the flesh. “Here,” Ennis said, spreading the shirt wide and draping it over Jack’s skin. The fabric made Jack shiver.

“This’ll cool you off some,” Ennis said, replacing one hand under Jack’s head and stroking his belly through the shirt with the other.

“Everything will be alright,” Ennis whispered, leaning to press a kiss to Jack’s forehead. He drew back to make sure the blood hadn’t begun to flow again.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Jack asked, bringing a hand to meet Ennis’s fingers that carded through his hair.

“Do what?” Ennis asked with a tilt of his head.

“I don’t know,” Jack exhaled softly. “Care?”

Ennis furrowed his brow, “I suppose I learned it the same place you did.” He smoothed the shirt over Jack’s chest, the fabric absorbing his sweat and cooling him.

“Where’s that?” asked Jack.

Ennis stopped moving his hands. “From my Mama,” he said.

Jack sighed.

“Sorry,” Ennis stroked Jack’s face. “You didn’t get to know your Mama. But I’m sure she would have   
taught you about caring just like mine did. All mothers do.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak when Kagelolit arrived, carrying a bucket of water and a coil of rope.

“Here you go,” he said, kneeling beside the men.

“Thanks,” Ennis dipped the ladle inside and offered it to Jack who sipped greedily.

“We need to hurry. Ki Badagi will address the tribe in the assembly. I need to bring you there before Megeso decides it is his responsibility.”

“We have to go now?” Ennis asked.

“Yes, they are waiting for you. I need to tie you up.”

“But Jack is hurt, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Listen to him, Ennis,” said Jack, between gulps of water. “We’ll cause more trouble if we don’t let him bring us.”

“I will tie your hands in the front,” said Kagelolit. “If you have an opportunity to escape, the bindings will be loose.”

“Alright,” said Ennis, presenting his wrists. “Tie me first.”

Kagelolit bound Ennis’s hands. He helped Jack to his feet and worked a length of rope around his wrists and through Ennis’s bindings, so he could bring them to the assembly together like horses on single lead.

They left the wigwam, walking the familiar path, a beating drum guiding their way.

The tribe seemed to have doubled in size since the last time Ennis had been to a gathering. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Jack as they circled the central firepit, walking in step to the rhythmic drumming. Jack kept his eyes on the ground, sleepwalking through the primitive ceremony.

The heat from the coals distorted Ennis’s view of the returning tribal leaders who sat to watch the welcoming parade of their fellow tribesmen. Ennis stole a glance toward the Indian Chief through the sparks of kindling that flew through the air.

Ki Badagi wore a robe of feathers trimmed with the tails of raccoon and fox. A brawny man in European dress stood next to the Chief. His blue eyes and bushy beard made him stand out among the bare-chested bronze-skinned Indians.

From beyond the firepit, Megeso limped across the circle toward the captives, shouting words that Ennis didn’t understand. He grabbed the rope from Kagelolit’s hand and jerked the men forward. Jack stumbled and fell to the ground.

Ennis maintained his balance in time to see Jack turn his head toward the tribal leaders.

The man with the bushy beard rose to his feet. His mouth hung open and his brilliant eyes grew wide. He gasped out only one word.

“Jack?”


	21. Chapter 21

_“Jack?”_

The drumming stopped.

The bearded man rushed toward them. He knelt and dragged his hand over Jack’s left arm, smoothing his rough fingers over the scar that marked Jack’s skin.

Ennis fell to his knees beside Jack, keeping his focus on the bearded stranger. He wanted to help Jack up, but he wasn’t sure whether it might exacerbate an already dangerous situation. If only Jack could run, they would have a chance to escape the tribal court and the stranger who knew him by name.

“Jack, can you hear me?” Ennis choked out. But Jack remained silent, his gaze fixed on the stranger with sparkling blue eyes like his own.

“Wait here,” the stranger spoke before returning to the Chief’s side, although it was unlikely that Jack was going anywhere.

Ennis guessed that the man accompanied the Chief back to camp from one of the coastal villages where the Indians traded- from Salem, knowing Ennis’s luck. He felt their days of escaping justice might soon be over.

The bindings had loosened enough so Ennis could move his hands. He nudged at Jack’s shoulder.

“Jack, we’ve got to get out of here,” he whispered.

Jack stirred and groaned, drawing his knees to his chest. His whole body shook. The setting sun cast an orange glow over the assembled tribesmen, a sheen of sweat glazed over every face, except Jack’s.

“Jack?” Ennis cried.

Jack’s lips moved and his throat emitted a soft whine, “Grrrzz…”

Megeso had been restrained under Ki Badagi’s watchful eye since pulling Jack to the ground, but he threw his hands in the air and ranted in his native tongue. He approached Jack in a rage, his eyes wild and nostrils flaring. As he drew closer, Ennis lurched and threw his body over Jack, shielding him from Megeso’s potential outburst.

“Get away from him!” Ennis growled like a mother bear protecting her young.

“Dab!” Ki Badagi shouted.

Megeso stopped in his tracks.

All eyes were on the spectacle taking place before the returning Chief.

Ennis’s heart raced, the pounding rhythm beating so loudly in his ears that it could drown out the tribal drum. His panicked mind reasoned that he and Jack made poor quarry for the Indians. They had nothing. No riches could be gained from their demise. They lay together on the ground, covered with dirt stained sweat, partly restrained by the bindings on their wrists, more thoroughly restrained by Jack’s exhaustion and Ennis’s determination to remain a human barrier between Jack and Megeso. Spent and useless, Ennis and Jack awaited their fate.

The bearded man spoke to the Chief. Ennis was vaguely aware of Jack’s labored breathing. He shifted to allow Jack more space so he could gasp lungfuls of air. Jack struggled to speak, but he could only make a bubbling gurgle, “Grrrzz…”

Ennis watched the tribal leaders from his position. He saw the Chief nod, touching a finger to his lips before using it to summon Chigabid from the group.

A log hissed and snapped in the fire. Ennis tried to comfort Jack, murmuring syllables into his hair while he shook and sputtered.

Chigabid spoke animatedly to the Chief. Ennis couldn’t hear what the men were saying, but soon Kagelolit and another Indian joined their conversation.

Ennis ran a hand over Jack’s forehead. “Hang in there, maybe our friend can help us,” he breathed.

A trickle of blood ran from Jack’s lip. Ennis wished he had worn his shirt, so he could tend to Jack with the soft sleeve. He wiped the bloody saliva away with his thumb instead, while he watched Megeso warily. An irate young woman stood with crossed arms, spewing sharp words at Megeso, for all the tribe to hear. This must be his betrothed, Aliwa, thought Ennis, secretly pleased that she gave Megeso an earful.

Ennis didn’t notice that the medicine men, Walhana and Kikaimen, had been called, until Kagelolit tugged at his arm.

“Come, Ennis,” Kagelolit said. “Let them help Jack.”

Walhana knelt next to Ennis. The willowy Indian with straight black hair looked no different than any of the others, yet Ennis remembered what he had been told about him and Kikaimen.

“Go with Kagelolit,” Walhana spoke, his voice chanting low. “I will speak to the Great Spirit on behalf of your friend.”

Kagelolit helped Ennis to his feet and led him to the Chief. As Ennis walked, he heard Walhana’s calming words to Jack:

_“O Great Spirit whose voice I hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to the world, hear me. Jack comes before you, one of your many children…”_

Kagelolit guided Ennis to the tribal leaders. He placed his right hand over his heart, “Wise and noble sachem, Ki Badagi, I present to you, Ennis,” Kagelolit said.

“Ennis,” the Chief’s feathers fluttered as he spoke. “I have heard about you from my tribesmen.”

Ennis nodded a greeting, unsure of what to say.

“Do not worry about Megeso,” said the Chief. “He will face the wrath of my daughter if he does not follow the straight path of the arrow. I have no fear that she will persuade him to see things her way.” The Chief smirked as he observed Aliwa, still scolding Megeso. “The others have pleaded for your mercy, but you have greater concerns now.”

Ennis followed Ki Badagi’s eyes toward Jack. 

The medicine men had carried Jack to a bench and removed his clothing. He now lay on his back, naked at the mercy of the heathens. Ennis supposed he should be alarmed, but something about the presence of the chanting men calmed him. He reminded himself that Kagelolit trusted in their seemingly magical healing powers.

“I must calm my daughter before the evening meal,” the Chief said. “You have much to talk about here.”

The Chief walked away, leaving Ennis with Kagelolit and the blue-eyed stranger.

“Griz,” Kagelolit said, “This is Ennis… Jack’s friend.”

Griz spoke first. “Jamieson Bartholomew Griswold, but you can call me Griz. Hell, everyone else does,” he clapped Ennis on the shoulder and gripped Ennis’s hand into his own. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but,” Ennis stammered, letting his attention wander to Jack again. He watched Kikaimen crush dried leaves into a barrel of water while Walhana chanted over Jack’s naked form.

“It was the winter of ‘74 when Jack came to work for my master. He was barely a lad, then. Only stood about yea high,” Griz indicated a height that was near Ennis’s waist, but closer to the top of Gris’s thigh.

“You knew him before?” Ennis asked, starting to relax.

“Oh, yes, he was like a son to me.”

“A son?”

“Yes, I was in the first year of my apprenticeship when Jack arrived. He grew into a young man by the time I left,” Griz stroked his beard thoughtfully.

Ennis’s eyes were drawn to Jack again.

“But we don’t need to have this conversation now, while your mind is on your friend.”

Walhana danced in a circle around the bench as Kikaimen used a dipper to pour water over Jack’s body. The herb-laced liquid dripped onto the ground with each splash from the dipper. They turned Jack onto his side, so they could drizzle the water down his back, the dirt and sweat washing away.

“Don’t worry,” Griz continued. “Our medicine men possess more knowledge about cures than a colonial barber. Let us eat while they heal him.”

The Indian maidens served the evening meal. Ennis only picked at the roasted quail. He let a few steamed apple slices slide down his throat. The medicine men encouraged Jack to drink, cheering him for downing the contents of the ladles they presented.

“He’s looking better now,” Ennis said absentmindedly, twirling a tiny quail bone between his thumb and forefinger. He paid little attention to the majesty of the Chief’s return to the tribe and the happiness that it elicited from his tribesmen.

“Tell you what Ennis, when we heard the story that two colonists had been captured, I never expected to see Jack Twist again,” Griz said, pausing to lick his fingers.

Walhana covered Jack with a sheet of homespun. Jack tried to get to his feet, but Kikaimen eased him back down onto the bench. He stayed by his side while Walhana approached Ennis and Griz.

“Griz, Ennis,” Walhana nodded. “You are curious about your friend’s health. Jack has been healed, but he needs to rest. We would like to carry him back to the wigwam now.”

“Of course,” replied Griz, raising his hands in the air. “But I insist that he stay in my guest wigwam. I think he will find the accommodations more agreeable than the old captive’s wigwam, if you and Kikaimen agree, of course.”

“That is most kind of you,” said Walhana.

Without hesitation, Griz and Ennis stood at Jack’s side while he was rolled onto an animal skin. They each lifted a corner and carried him the short distance to Griz’s guest wigwam. After they lowered Jack to a dense bed of animal furs, Griz left and returned with a white nightshirt of fine linen.

“This will make you more comfortable than that homespun, friend,” he said, placing a kiss on Jack’s forehead.

The medicine men helped Jack into the nightshirt and gave Ennis instructions for Jack to drink throughout the night.

“We will talk in the morning,” said Griz, clasping Ennis’s hands in his own before he departed.

Ennis bid Griz goodnight and thanked Kikaimen and Walhana for their kindness. He closed the doorflap and turned his attention to Jack who lay sleepily on the furs.

Ennis shook his head back and forth, before flopping onto the dense bed beside Jack. He exhaled with a deep sigh, and rolled to his side.

Jack opened his eyes in the fading light.

“Can I get you anything?” Ennis murmured, smoothing his hand over the soft fabric of the nightshirt.

Jack closed his eyes halfway, his long lashes floating downward.

Ennis’s hand lazily roamed lower, grazing Jack’s hardness.

“I can take care of you,” Ennis whispered in Jack’s ear.

He wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock and did what he promised.


	22. Chapter 22

_“I can take care of you,” Ennis whispered in Jack’s ear._

_He wrapped his hand around his cock and did what he promised._

Ennis used the sheet of homespun to wipe Jack clean before settling in for the night, his chest against Jack’s back. Jack dozed to sleep in Ennis’s embrace, but Ennis had to rely on the lull of chirping crickets to send him to his dreams.

He recalled each incident of his long day, a new scene manifesting for each simultaneous chirp of the insect’s chorus. He remembered the sex and knot-tying and stray punch and friendship, Jack’s smile and swimming and bindings and Jack lying helpless, and Griz and the medicine men. Each piercing chirp forced him to recall a different image, remember a strange or wonderful happening. The cacophony of image and sound became a reminder for him to savor this day, to bask in the joy of being alive, because his journey would soon end at his brother’s house and these days would belong to the past.

His goals became attainable with his freedom from captivity, for better or worse. The trappings of an accused witch and an Indian’s captive would soon fall away and Ennis could reclaim the mien of a seaport citizen.

Ennis awoke to the whisper of Jack’s lips in his ear and two warm hands pulling him closer. Deep in his dream of cobblestone streets and sailing ships, he hesitated to emerge from the welcome sleep.

“What?” he mumbled, squirming to stop the grazing tickle of teeth on his earlobe. “You need something?” he asked, eyes still closed. He rotated his head and Jack caught his mouth with his own, the seafaring dream forgotten temporarily.

Ennis’s throat rumbled his surprise at awakening. Still, he slid his tongue into Jack’s mouth and kissed him in earnest, forgetting to treat the swollen lips gently.

He withdrew and cupped Jack’s face in his hands, the soft hairs of his beard wedging between his fingers. “Sorry,” he said. The purple skin and scabbed gash looked better than it had the night before when Jack lay bleeding in the dirt.

Jack squinted. “Why?” he whispered, leaning in to claim more of Ennis’s mouth.

“Your bruise,” said Ennis, smoothing a finger over the swollen flesh.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Jack smiled, his eyes sparkling in the dawn glow that illuminated the wigwam through the thin birchbark walls. He pushed himself up on one arm and rolled on top of Ennis, grinding his morning erection against his thigh.

Ennis ran his hands down Jack’s back, kneading the hard muscles beneath the soft nightshirt.

“They healed me,” said Jack, wedging his thighs between Ennis’s legs. “Remember?”

Ennis relished the feel of Jack’s weight pinning him in place. He couldn’t resist grinding his hips upward to meet Jack’s cock with his own. Although two layers of fabric separated their nakedness, the sensation sent a warm rush to Ennis’s belly. He smiled at Jack’s gasp, eyelashes brushing against his cheek, the sound of his own breath catching in his throat. “Wait,” Ennis said, as if suddenly remembering something important. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“What?” Jack asked, but Ennis answered by hitching a leg up and pushing Jack onto his back.

Ennis straddled Jack, resting on knees and hands, hovering above his torso, barely touching. Jack carved shallow valleys down Ennis’s bare back with his fingers, trying to force him downward for more contact.

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” Ennis said, sitting back on his haunches. “Medicine man’s orders.” The sunburned pink of his flexed muscles twinged as he reached for the flask that had been left behind. He bit the down on the stopper and pulled it out.

“Drink,” he said, from the corner of his mouth.

He held the flask to Jack’s lips and watched him swallow the liquid.

“Save a swig for me,” said Ennis, dropping the stopper.

Jack drained most of the liquid before handing the flask over and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He rested his fingers on Ennis’s thighs, stroking meaningless lines across the fabric of Ennis’s trousers.

Ennis tipped the flask back and took a long swallow before tossing the empty flask into the corner.

“Now, where were we?” Ennis asked, his voice a low whisper, his eyes glazed with lust. He traced a finger down the front of Jack’s nightshirt.

“What’s this I’m wearing,” Jack asked, noticing for the first time that he wore strange clothes. “I’ve never seen this before in my life.”

Ennis lowered his head and bit into the fabric, catching some of Jack’s chest hair along with it. He drew his head back and shook from side to side like a wild dog.

“And where’s your shirt?” asked Jack, stopping Ennis’s head between his strong hands.

“I don’t need clothes anymore. I’m a wild Indian now,” said Ennis, releasing his mouthful of cloth. “I’ve gone and joined them while you were asleep.”

“I told you the fur would feel nice on your skin,” Jack pulled Ennis’s head down to his chest.

Ennis pressed a kiss into the fabric, without lowering his weight onto Jack.

“This is the nightshirt Griz gave you,” Ennis said. “Don’t you remember?”

“Griz,” Jack smiled. “I remember seeing him. Other than that, I don’t remember much of what happened after Megeso slammed me to the ground.”

“Don’t worry, I protected you from him.”

“You did?” asked Jack, shoving Ennis’s head away.

“Jumped on top of you to keep him from striking. Otherwise, he’d have to deal with me, if he dared.”

“You didn’t need to do that,” Jack said. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not in the state you were in,” mused Ennis, sliding down between Jack’s legs. “You really don’t remember any of it?”

Jack let his head sink down into the furs. Ennis grabbed the hem of Jack’s nightshirt between his teeth and dragged the fabric up his body, exposing his hard cock to the cool air.

“Oh, now I remember, you let the Indians carry me off and undress me in front of the whole tribe. That’s some job you did protecting me from the eyes of every man, woman, and child in the New World. Those medicine men could have done any number of vile things to me.”

Ennis chuckled low, “But they didn’t, did they?” he asked, his breath hot on Jack’s naked skin.

“Ennis,” gasped Jack.

“Yes?” asked Ennis, swiping a glistening droplet from the tip of Jack’s cock with his tongue.

“I think you like to torture me,” Jack said, pulling the nightshirt off and bunching it into a pillow under his head.

“Maybe a little,” Ennis murmured in agreement. He licked a circle around Jack’s navel, and kissed his way down the trail of soft hair that led his mouth to its destination. The scent of pine and balsam filled his nostrils. He wrapped his arms around Jack’s thighs and nosed Jack’s cock out of the way so he could use his tongue to trace a wet line from below Jack’s balls to base of his shaft. Unable to resist, he buried his head in Jack’s nest of wiry hair and inhaled deeply.

“Mmm, you smell so good.”

“Huh?” Jack muttered.

“What was that they put on you?” Ennis asked, sniffing. “You smell like a forest. I can hardly tell you’ve been wearing the same clothes for a month.”

“I don’t know. Must have been something they doused me in. Maybe some kind of magic Indian herb.”

“Well you needed a bath.”

“You, too,” Jack snickered.

“I got one,” Ennis said, the plump head of Jack’s cock pulsing in his mouth.

“Oh?”

Ennis slid his mouth down Jack’s shaft and drew it back off again. “Went swimming,” he said.

“I noticed you smelled better,” Jack gasped.

Ennis tasted Jack’s cock again. He heard Jack lick his lips, imagined the expression on his face as Jack bit down on his bottom lip like he so often did. He went to work, hell-bent on pleasing the man, doing what he learned would make him moan and shudder. Jack’s hands pulled at his hair, telling Ennis he was getting close. Paying attention to his balls wrinkled tight, Ennis held Jack’s hips steady, trying to slow him down, but it was too late. The waves of warm release already spurted into his mouth.

Ennis shoved a hand down his trousers and stroked himself, once, twice, before spilling over into his hand. His heart pounded out of his chest, the only sound in the middle of the quiet Indian camp. He rested his cheek on the soft fur of Jack’s belly, breathing heavy, waiting for Jack to stop shaking.

As his fingers played with the fine hairs on Jack’s thigh, Ennis couldn’t help wondering how Jack’s reunion with Griz might change their plans.

“Ennis?”

“Huh?”

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Ennis’s head rose and fell with Jack’s breathing. “Just thinking.”

“Me, too,” Jack carded his fingers through Ennis’s hair. “Come back up here.”

Ennis crawled his way up Jack’s body, the pine scent rising from his skin.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ennis asked, collapsing at Jack’s side.

“Thinking about how you’re supposed to be replacing my bodily fluids, not draining them,” Jack laughed.

Ennis smiled, smoothing a hand over Jack’s chest.

“What are you thinking?” Jack asked, his arms pulling Ennis close.

Ennis drew lazy circles around Jack’s nipple, “I was wondering about this Griz fellow. How well did you know him… before?”

“I was four years old when my father sold me to Griz’s master,” Jack shook his head. “Griz taught me to read and write, to build ships so I might learn to escape someday.”

Jack shifted and looked down onto Ennis’s worried face. “We didn’t share this,” Jack whispered, pressing his bruised mouth to Ennis’s. 

Ennis closed his eyes. If he ever wondered about Griz and Jack, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

“Now, let’s go see about getting breakfast and some clothes,” Jack smiled. “I can’t walk around wearing   
only a nightshirt. Maybe the Indians will give us breechcloths if we ask!”


	23. Chapter 23

_Ennis closed his eyes. If he ever wondered about Griz and Jack, a sigh of relief escaped his lips._

_“Now, let’s go see about getting breakfast and some clothes,” Jack smiled. “I can’t walk around wearing only a nightshirt. Maybe the Indians will give us breechcloths if we ask!”_

“That would be a sight,” chuckled Ennis, adjusting his trousers and pulling on his boots. The thought of Jack dressed in Indian garb sent a spike of pleasure to his groin. Fortunately, there might be an opportunity for them to join in the tribe’s dress code if their meeting with Griz went well.

Jack wrapped the coarse sheet of homespun around his waist and peered out the wigwam door.

“Go on,” whispered Ennis, pressing his hand against the small of Jack’s back, urging him forward. “There’s no more of you for the tribe to see, that they haven’t seen already.”

Jack scowled at Ennis, but Ennis only smiled and counted his blessings that he wasn’t stripped naked in front of the tribe. Jack’s lenient upbringing left him far better equipped to handle such a calamity than Ennis with his colonial values.

Outside, the air hung in a stagnant mist above the valley. Low dark clouds threatened to burst with humid rain and the sky crackled with energy. Familiar sounds drifted from the firepit as the village stirred to life. Inside Griz’s nearby wigwam, the creak of nails sliding on wood and the groan of barrels being opened told them Griz was awake.

“Griz?” Jack called, rapping lightly on the birch sapling that served as the door frame.

Silence.

“Griz?” he called again.

“Jack!” Griz shouted and a burly arm flew through the doorflap, dragging Jack into the wigwam.

Ennis shook his head, still standing outside. He listened to the sound of hands slapping backs and greetings being exchanged before the doorflap lifted and Ennis was pulled inside with the two men.

“Griz,” Jack smiled wide. “This is Ennis.”

“Yes, I met this fellow last night while you were…” Griz struggled to define Jack’s condition.

“Hurt?” said Ennis.

“How shall I say…” Griz scratched his bearded chin.

“Naked?” offered Jack.

“Umm… incapacitated,” Griz finally spat out with a chuckle.

Griz’s massive hand enveloped Ennis’s and he shook his appendage heartily.

“Don’t tell the Chief, but I felt the rain coming on last night, so I’ve arranged for us to breakfast here like civilized Europeans. None of that cornmeal mush for you my boy,” he thumped Jack’s belly with the back of his hand. “We’ve got to put some meat on your bones.”

“How did you manage that?” Ennis wondered aloud. 

Jack raised an eyebrow to Griz. “My guess is that you are a figure of great importance to this tribe. I mean look at this place,” said Jack, gazing at the fur-lined bed and barrels of goods stacked against the near wall.

“I’ve done well for myself since I took my last look at you,” Griz’s said, gripping Jack’s shoulders, his eyes welling with tears.

“No, let’s have none of that,” said Jack, clasping Griz’s arm. “We have so much to talk about.”

Ennis regarded the scene with more questions than answers, but he hesitated to interrupt the happy reunion.

A clap of thunder rumbled in the sky and echoed down the valley.

“Griz?” a woman’s voice called from outside the wigwam door.

“Come in, mother,” said Griz, welcoming the woman into the wigwam. 

Ennis recognized her long braids and vibrant clothing. The same woman had presided over the meals while the Chief was away. Her kind eyes had singled he and Jack out during mealtime, making sure they had enough to eat. She carried a tray bearing a pot of tea and a platter of steaming scones. A slab of butter and a sugarloaf filled the smaller dishes.

“Jack, Ennis, this is Ibezela, my favorite person in all the New World, and the only member of the tribe who can brew a proper cup of tea,” said Griz with a flourish.

“Pleased to meet you ma’am,” said Ennis.

“Let me help you with that,” said Jack, taking the tray from her.

Ibezela’s eyes sparkled brightly. “I did not realize I already knew so much about you from Griz’s stories, Jack Twist- from long before you decided to visit our tribe,” she said, placing a wrinkled hand on Jack’s cheek.

“I still can’t believe my good fortune at seeing Griz again,” said Jack, his eyes beaming.

“I would like to learn more about you, but I cannot stay now,” said Ibezela. “I have many things to do before the rain begins. Enjoy your visit with your friend.”

She kissed Griz on the cheek and nodded goodbye to Ennis and Jack.

“Come on lads, get yourselves situated. Oh dear!” Griz said, noticing Jack’s lack of appropriate clothing. “I think I can find some suitable clothes that would fit you.”

Griz hauled a barrel upright and set to work, removing the lid with an axe blade. The squeak of metal on wood sent shivers down Ennis’s spine. He cringed with each shrill outburst of sound. His eyes met Jack’s and he couldn’t help but smile at him, happy for his re-acquaintance with his childhood friend.

“You don’t need to bother with that right now,” said Jack, depositing the tray on the furs. “We are all hungry.”

“Well that’s a good sign after your ordeal last night. Go on, make yourselves at home. You can start without me,” said Griz, removing the lid from the barrel and shaking out a pair of trousers.

Ennis poured the tea into three porcelain cups and sat on the furs. 

“I’m glad the medicine men could help you,” Griz held the trousers out to Jack. “Here, these ought to fit.”

“Thanks, Griz,” he said, pulling them on without bothering to tuck in the white nightshirt that hung loose on his frame. “I still can’t believe it’s really you. I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I do hope that you have been treated well here. The tribe has good reason to be wary of strangers who trespass in their village,” said Griz, sitting on the bed of furs beside Ennis and motioning for Jack to do the same.

Jack finished fastening the trousers and sat with the men. “I noticed you called Ibezela ‘mother,’ Jack said, buttering a scone. Is she the tribal matriarch?”

Griz plopped a lump of sugar into his cup and sighed heavily. “She is the mother of Chief Ki Badagi, but she is also my wife’s mother.”

“You have a wife? Do tell us about her. Can we meet her?” asked Jack, between mouthfuls of scone.

“I wish you could,” Griz said solemnly. “But she is dead.”

“Oh Griz,” said Jack. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s terrible,” said Ennis. “How did she die?”

Griz stirred his tea with a wooden spoon. “An outbreak of smallpox killed more than half the tribe last year. Knowing that, you can see why we are cautious about keeping the white man away.”

A brisk wind swayed the trees outside, their leaves rustling in the gale.

“At least I still have dear Ibezela and the Chief’s family. They have always treated me like one of their own.”

“I’ve lost some of my family too, I do feel sorry for you,” said Ennis, his eyes softening.

“Some tribesmen, like Kagelolit,” Griz clasped a hand to Ennis’s shoulder, “your friend who proclaimed your innocence last night, lost every member of his family in the outbreak.”

“That’s very sad, Griz,” said Jack wistfully. “But tell me, how did you get here in the first place? You were a skilled shipbuilder when we worked for Master Chapman. How can it be that you are part of this tribe?”

A low rumble of thunder shook across the sky. The soft patter of raindrops began to fall on the wigwam roof.

“When I left you at Chapman’s, I secured a position on the Britannia as she sailed for the New World. I remember the day we said our goodbyes. You were a teenager then, almost broad and tall as you are now,” said Griz.

“And did you find work as a shipbuilder?” asked Jack.

“Oh, I did much better than that, lads. I landed in Portsmouth on the Strawbery Banke where I used my skills to organize the shipments of goods like cane and cloth, spices and fish. My knowledge of shipbuilding, and my talent for speaking-which I must have learned from you,” Griz slapped Jack on the back. “Gave me the opportunity to become a successful merchant. So I stayed in Portsmouth, happy as a lark.”

“But what about the Indians?” asked Ennis.

Griz sipped his tea and continued. “One day, I was riding west to scout a stand of white pine, when a terrible storm struck. A thunderbolt spooked my horse and I was thrown from my mount. An Indian maiden came to my rescue… my Elysa.”

“Your wife?” Jack smiled, reaching for another scone.

“You know it, my boy,” Griz said, tapping a finger to Jack’s chest. “Her family cared for me until I was fit again to travel back to the coast. But it was too late for me. I was a young man and I had fallen in love. Elysa’s family took me in, and here I have lived ever since.

“You seem happy here,” said Jack. “I can tell they care for you deeply.”

“I still travel with the Chief to trade with the colonists, although he speaks English so well, he needs no interpreter. Someday, I may be ready to move back to the seaport, but for now, this is where my heart lives. There’s nothing I can do to change things now, nor would I want to,” said Griz thoughtfully. “But tell me what has happened to you, the two of you. What brings you here?”

Thunder roared as the sky cracked open, the sound dissolving into a low drumbeat that rolled across the land. The rain fell in torrents, great sheets washing over the village, hammering the wigwam.

“Well,” Jack began. “There’s something you should know about Ennis and me.”


	24. Chapter 24

_“Well,” Jack began. “There’s something you should know about Ennis and me.”_

“I’m all ears,” said Griz, pouring the amber liquid from the teapot into his chipped cup. “I knew you’d escape Chapman someday. Never felt right about the way he treated you from the first day you arrived.”

“I’ve owed you my life on more than one occasion,” Jack sighed. His hand sneaked out from the folds of the nightshirt and touched Ennis’s elbow, his thumb tracing a circle on the warm skin. “I’ve been telling Ennis what it was like, working as a servant to a master shipbuilder.”

Griz set the teapot on a wooden barrel that served as furniture in his cluttered home. His eyes met Ennis’s. Ennis nodded, remembering the story of how Jack was sent away from his home as a boy, sold by his own father.

“After you left,” Jack continued, “Old man Chapman never bothered to take on a new apprentice. Too stubborn to teach someone the trade, and too cheap to pay them anyway. So, I did the work. I already had learned how to choose the timber and cut the planks from the years you and I spent together. I got better at it when you weren’t there to help me. Had to, if I was going to be fed. With no apprentice to do the work, I had no choice but to improve my talents. Chapman wouldn’t be paid if the work was shoddy.”

Griz watched Ennis as Jack spoke.

“You remember how he used to keep me locked in the cellar?” Jack asked Griz.

Griz nodded to Ennis. It seemed that he wanted to make sure Ennis listened and understood the conditions in which Jack had lived. “It makes me sad to remember those days. Chapman was afraid of you,” Griz said, turning his attention to Jack. “He didn’t take the time to know you like I did. Never concerned himself with you, except when he needed a strong back.”

“You were a child!” Ennis blurted out.

“Yes, but it wasn’t his fault,” Jack said, his fingers running down Ennis’s bare arm to rest in his own lap. “He knew what he was getting into when he bought me. He was resolute in his ways. His opinions couldn’t be changed.”

Griz threw an arm around Jack’s shoulder, his hand smoothing the fabric flat. “I did the best I could with what we had,” said Griz.

“You did,” Jack agreed.

Ennis felt a surge of jealousy in his gut. He wished there was something he could do to comfort Jack. He didn’t like seeing Griz touching him, not one bit, even if he seemed like he was some kind of mentor or guardian to Jack. There was no sex in it. But Griz knew things. He knew everything there was to know about Jack, things that Ennis hadn’t yet had time to discover. Maybe he’d never have enough time to learn it all. He untangled his legs from under him and shifted closer to Jack, their thighs touching. The soft rumble of thunder could barely be heard above the driving rain.

“You still have that scar on your arm from when your father brought you,” Griz said.

Jack shrugged the nightshirt off his left shoulder and displayed the scar. The ragged indentation gleamed white against his sun-reddened skin.

“Still there,” Jack said. “Probably always will be.”

“I noticed it last night by the firepit. It’s how I recognized it was you,” said Griz.

“How did you get it?” asked Ennis.

Jack’s smile disappeared and he lowered his eyes to the dirt floor. Ennis was immediately sorry that he asked. He skimmed his hand over Jack’s cheek, turning his face toward him. Ennis saw an emotion he had never witnessed before in Jack’s eyes. They made a pleading wish to move on and change the subject, as if the horror of what happened was so fresh that to bring it up would eliminate the past joys that they had experienced together and take Jack back to the day he was viciously maimed.

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled across the sky. Griz exhaled loudly and raised an eyebrow Ennis’s way.

“Have another scone,” Griz said, passing the tray to Ennis.

Ennis blinked heavily and took a scone from the platter, grumbling silently for asking something that he should have asked Jack when they were alone. Maybe he’d have an answer for him between the languid kisses they’d share underneath the furs later today, if they were lucky. He hopefully broke the scone in half and passed the offering to Jack.

“Tell us how you escaped and what happened next,” Griz urged Jack to continue.

“Well, after you left, he still locked me up at night. Remember how the water used to run along the floor when the stream would overflow its banks?”

“Aye, and the noise from the wheel would keep you awake at night.”

“There was a sawmill there,” Jack nodded to Ennis. “Most places in Britain didn’t have a mill, but Chapman did. At least it meant he had plenty of work.”

The rain drizzled down steadily, droplets trickling down the outside of the wigwam walls and splashing into the puddles that formed around the perimeter.

“Griz had been gone for nearly two years. I had been waiting, biding my time for the day when I could escape. I spent months loosening the stones around the foundation of the hovel, a little at a time. Fortunately, the room was so dank that Chapman never bothered to come inside to see what I was planning. I had worked hard and followed his orders for months as to not be beaten. I couldn’t run if I had broken ribs and I wouldn’t have had my wits about me if I had suffered a hammer to my head.”

Ennis listened as Jack told his tale of suffering at the hands of his master. A man with less confidence would have crumbled from the years of forced labor, but it seemed Jack only became more hopeful that a better life awaited him. Ennis felt an overpowering urge to hold him and comfort him, to soothe away the feelings of terror he must have had as a child. He was glad that in some ways he had already been a comfort to Jack, by being a friend to him when he arrived in the New World and a constant companion during their sleeping hours when they lay wrapped in each other’s warmth.

“I had saved up some scraps of food and a heavy shirt to wrap it in. I pried the stones from the wall and crawled beneath it. There was barely enough room for me to fit. When I was free, I ran as far as I could.”

“You just aimlessly ran off into the night?” asked Griz.

“Sounds like what you and I did,” said Ennis absentmindedly.

“How do you mean, Ennis?” asked Griz.

Ennis realized too late that he had admitted a dangerous truth to Griz. But there was no time to take back his words.

“Ennis was accused of witchcraft, Griz. I helped him escape,” Jack said, glancing back at Ennis. He covered Ennis’s hand with his own and intertwined their fingers. “I have no regrets. But I’m in as much danger now, as when I ran away from Chapman.”

Griz looked at their hands and scratched his chin.

Ennis’s heart pounded louder than the falling rain. He fought the urge to pull his hand away, assuring himself that there was no way of changing the impression Jack had just given Griz about them.

“I stowed away on the ship that brought me here,” Jack continued. “I was caught, but I swam to shore when the ship sank. I met Ennis in Salem and we helped each other to flee. We planned on traveling to Newburyport to meet Ennis’s brother when your tribe captured us. That’s how we ended up here.”

A silence fell over the men. Griz combed his fingers through his beard.

“You may have left Salem Village just in time,” he said solemnly.

“Why? What news have you?” managed Ennis, squeezing Jack’s hand tighter.

“In the past weeks, I have traveled the coast, trading with the colonists. Many more have been accused of heresy in Salem,” Griz shook his head. “They await their hanging. You were fortunate to have escaped their fate, but I worry that you might be found here, although the Puritans seem to have their hands full with so many accused awaiting trial.”

“If the tribe exonerates us and sets us free, might we continue our journey to find refuge in Newburyport?” Jack asked hopefully.

“Yes, you’d be safe there,” Griz rested a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “The Puritans have no power beyond Salem. I will speak to Ki Badgai and see that you are pardoned. But we mustn’t wait another day. We will do it tonight with an official trial where you’ll be declared innocent. Then, you’ll be free to travel from our camp. I can help you get to Newburyport, as well.”

“How soon will we be able to leave?” asked Ennis.

”You already know there’s a wedding planned in a few days. Stay here until then. I assure you that my tribesmen will treat you only with kindness on my orders. I thought I’d never see Jack again and we’ll have a chance to further discuss the memories of our youth,” Griz said. “It was a hard life, Jack, but you’ve made the best of it. I always knew you would.”

Ennis sighed with relief and Jack let go of his hand.

“You both need to rest from your ordeal,” said Griz. “Look at you two! Your dress is an embarrassment. Take these clothes back to your wigwam and sort out what you want. I have more than I know what to do with, and I want you to look presentable tonight at your trial.”

Jack and Ennis gathered up the armloads of clothing Griz pressed upon them and said their goodbyes. They dodged the raindrops to get back to their own cozy wigwam.


	25. Chapter 25

_Jack and Ennis gathered up the armloads of clothing Griz pressed upon them and said their goodbyes. They dodged the raindrops to get back to their own cozy wigwam._

Diving through the door, Ennis heaped the clothing he carried on top of what already burdened Jack’s arms. He reached under the furs and pulled a clean skin from the pile, laying it flat on the wigwam floor, away from their bed.

Jack deposited the clothing atop the skin with help from Ennis, who tugged the fine and lacy fabrics from his arms.

“He’s a fancy dresser, I suppose,” laughed Jack, when both men stood back to gaze on their new wardrobe.

Ennis’s breath came fast with the flurry of activity. “The only thing he doesn’t have are breechcloths and moccasins.”

“Just what we had our hearts set on,” Jack shook his head.

“Look at all this,” said Ennis, picking through the linen and velvet, crude homespun and fine silk.

“At least there’s no powdered wigs,” said Jack, tucking a stray lock of Ennis’s golden hair behind his ear.

“C’mere,” Ennis said, pulling Jack toward him, his fingers lost in the billowing fabric of the loose nightshirt. “Why didn’t you tell me all that you had suffered?”

“I told you some,” Jack said, running his hands up Ennis’s arms and pressing their foreheads together so they were breathing the same air. “There’s much of it I’d rather forget.”

“I wish I’d known,” Ennis whispered.

“Why?” Jack took Ennis’s face in his hands. “Would you have treated me any differently?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” 

“You can’t change anything about what happened, and the way I lived when I was indentured,” Jack said, drawing back. “Yes, it was horrible, but look at me. I’m fine. I must go on living each day, just as sure as the sun dawns on us.”

A gust of summer wind blew through the valley, the rain surged hard onto the wigwam.

“Or as certain as the rain will sometimes fall,” Jack said.

“You were only a child.” Ennis protested.

Jack nodded. “But there’s nothing to be done about it now. I need to concern myself with things that affect my future, not with the past that I have no power to change. Do you understand?”

Ennis leaned in and kissed Jack’s lips as gently as he could, mindful of the bruising.

“Thank you,” Jack said, taking Ennis’s hand in his and drawing the knuckles to his lips. He placed the lightest of kisses on the work-roughened skin. “That means a lot to me.”

Ennis slid his free hand down Jack’s back and cupped the firm globe of his ass, urging their bodies closer.

“Are we going to try on these clothes now and choose something to wear to our trial? Or are you trying to lure me back under the furs with you?” asked Jack.

“What do you think?” Ennis asked, reclaiming his kissed hand from Jack and smoothing both of his hands down Jack’s backside, pulling him in for a strong grind of cock against cock, clothing be damned.

“Come on,” Jack said, working his way out of Ennis’s grip. “We can look for clothes while we undress.”

“Like killing two birds with one stone?”

“Something like that,” Jack rummaged through the pile, pulling out a pair of green velvet breeches and holding them up to his waist before casting them aside to look for something more appealing.

Ennis found a cream silk shirt and matching vest with gold buttons. He punched his fists through the sleeves and shrugged it onto his shoulders, stretching his long arms out fully to check the fit.

Jack shucked his nightshirt and replaced it with a white shirt made of fine linen adorned with tiny pleated folds around each cuff. He smoothed back his hair and gathered it into a fist, securing it with a black hair ribbon which he tied into a neat bow.

Ennis puffed out his chest and stroked his palms up and down the front of his vest for want of a mirror. “How do I look?” he asked. “Does this make me look like a fat aristocrat?”

“No, you’re just as scrawny as ever. Here, try this,” Jack said, placing a velvet tri-corner hat with a purple ostrich plume on Ennis’s head.

“Phfwt,” Ennis spat the bits of errant feather from his mouth. “It would look better on you than me!”

“And, why would you say that?” asked Jack, his eyed narrowing. “I’ve done nothing to insinuate that I would wear such… such… plumage!”

Ennis removed the hat from his head and fidgeted with the brim.

“Besides, I’m a man. I fought Indians and escaped a shipwreck. I survived in the wilderness and attacked an armed colonist. Too much of a man to wear such an absurd thing,” Jack threw his arms in the air.

Ennis tossed the hat back into the pile. “That, you are,” he said, taking Jack in his arms, standing chest to chest with him. He ran his hands up Jack’s shoulders and stopped his rant with a soft kiss.

All the forcefulness Jack had exerted with his words melted away and he sank his weight into Ennis.

“And you’ll be a free man soon,” Ennis whispered against Jack’s bruised lips, as he drew away. His hands found the end of the ribbon that secured Jack’s hair. He gently tugged at it, drawing it loose ever so slowly, feeling it catch and slide through the knot as it unfurled free, his eyes locked on Jack’s. He dropped the black ribbon to the ground and raked his hands through Jack’s hair. 

“I like when your hair all loose and wild,” Ennis said, his breath catching in his throat. 

Jack licked his lips and a smile came to his face. “Why is that?” he asked.

Ennis swallowed hard. “Makes me feel like I’m being ravaged by a Viking berserker, or taken by a sinful gladiator in the days of ancient Rome.” Ennis’s heart thumped wildly at his admission to Jack that their activities were something that crossed his mind more than a few times each day.

“Ennis,” Jack whispered, rubbing his thumb across his lips. “I had no idea what a vivid imagination you had while we were under the covers.”

Jack took Ennis’s hand and pulled him toward bed of furs where they spent the remainder of the morning exploring every crease, crevice, and dimple of each other’s young bodies. Their impending freedom allowed them to leisurely discover which combination of mouth and fingertips and lips and cock and tongue could elicit the most appreciative moans and sighs, making the other writhe powerlessly, unable to fight their passion before falling exhausted into a peaceful nap.

They awoke to the sound of Griz knocking on the door frame.

“Come on lads, the tribe awaits you,” he called, without any urgency in his voice.

Ennis and Jack threw on their new clothing and hurried outside.

“Well, you two look refreshed,” said Griz. “Come along. You don’t want to be late. I’ve managed a surprise for you.”

Ennis looked worried, but Jack just shrugged and nodded that they should follow Griz. 

The rain had stopped while they slept. Puddles dissipated in the bright sunshine but the rain-darkened earth still colored the pathways.

They followed the familiar sound of the beating drum, calling the tribesmen to the assembly. When they arrived in the clearing, Kagelolit greeted Ennis.

“It is good to see you, friend,” he said. “Jack, you are looking well.”

It was true, Ennis thought. Jack had regained his healthy appearance in just one night after the treatment by the medicine men, and a morning spent under his own attentive hands. He smiled both from the memory of their frolic in the furs, and at Jack’s good fortune for reuniting with his childhood friend.

Griz left the men with Kagelolit, and took his place at the head of the group with Chigabid and Ki Bagadi. The tribal leaders had dressed in their impressive best for the trial. Lengths of braided feathers spilled from their headdresses and their garments featured every color of the rainbow. Ki Badagi motioned for Jack and Ennis to step to the front of the assembly.

Ennis glanced at Jack and took a deep breath. He rose, and with Jack at his side, walked to the front and stood before the man who would decide their fate.

“Ennis and Jack,” Ki Badagi spoke. “You have violated our peace with your weapons, a serious charge that we do not take lightly.”

Ennis chewed on his bottom lip. He hoped that Jack’s alliance with Griz would help them get out of trouble.

“Fortunately for you both, Mr. Griswold has requested not only your freedom, but that you remain in our company and join us at my daughter’s marriage ceremony which will take place in three days time. In order to witness the ceremony, we will need to name you as honorary members of our tribe. Do you both agree that is a far better arrangement than we may have decided upon without Griz’s help?”

Ennis sighed in relief, he nodded his approval and watched Jack do the same.

“Ennis,” spoke Ki Badagi. “You shall be known to us as Manahan. An island in your people’s language, for you are not a part of the ocean that is our tribe and those who know its friendship. Our tribesmen, Griz, and Jack, who was known to him as a child, are all part of our ocean. You are the island, surrounded by us, but not a part of us, although we happily meet your shores and take refuge in your friendship when the seas are rough.”

Ennis smiled broadly and deferred the crowd’s attention to Jack.

“Jack, you share something with Griz that is unknown to our tribesmen. Your distinction is the berry that the morning dew colors the same as your eyes. You will be known to us as Attitash, the blueberry, sweet, sticky, and the color of that bruise on your lip,” Ki Bagadi chuckled.

“Kind Ennis, and strong Jack, we welcome you to our tribe.”


	26. Chapter 26

_“Kind Ennis, and strong Jack, we welcome you to our tribe.”_

Ennis sighed deeply. The tension of the past week left him as if a great stone had been lifted from his chest. He measured his good fortune in shiploads filled to the deck and overflowing the top rails. Jack caught his eyes and smiled. Ennis nodded in reply, as if to confirm that this situation really couldn’t have gone much better for the two of them.

The evening meal was served when they returned to their seats on the wooden bench. They feasted on roasted vegetables and fish steamed in cornhusks, the tangy juices escaping through the cracks. Ennis noticed that the quantity of food the tribe prepared had multiplied in mass since the chief returned with his hungry entourage. He happily ate, sitting between his friends, Jack and Kagelolit.

Ennis liked his Indian name and he thought Ki Badagi’s explanation for it made sense. Jack’s name was perfect too, Ennis thought. He couldn’t wait to call him by the Indian word… _Attitash…_ alone in the wigwam illuminated only by fireglow. He watched the flames dance in Jack’s eyes as they enjoyed the bonfire after their meal. His eyes really were as distinctive as the sweet berries kissed by the morning dew. And Jack was sweet as well, and quick-witted and strong. Ennis wondered how he would get along without him when they reached Newburyport and went their separate ways.

The evening stars appeared in the sky, a good sign that the clear weather would hold for the days leading to Megeso and Aliwa’s wedding, and the travel days that might follow.

One by one, the tribe members approached Ennis and Jack to give them their welcoming wishes. Even Megeso, with a vigilant Aliwa at his side, gave a message of apology to Ennis for shooting at him when they met in the forest, and to Jack for behaving like a true savage when the chief returned to camp.

When Griz finished eating, he left his place at the head of the assembly and tossed his empty corn husks onto the fire to come and sit by Jack’s side. He nodded and smiled at Ennis, wrapping a friendly arm around Jack.

“I hate to get rid of you lads so quickly, but you will remember that I told you about being able to give you some assistance with your plans to travel to Newburyport?”

Ennis nodded eagerly.

“Yes, what do you have in mind?” asked Jack.

From across the bonfire, the drumming started slowly. A single happy rhythm of hands on the stretched animal skin pierced the night air.

“Well, it so happens that while we were away at trade with the colonists, I made the promise of the delivery of two horses to a Master Seth Treadwell of Amesbury.”

“I think I can guess your plan,” said Ennis.

“You can each ride,” said Griz. “You rode that poor excuse for a horse all the way here from Salem Village without killing him.” Griz slapped his palm against Jack’s shoulder.

“We did, but we had to share,” laughed Jack.

“Well, no more of that,” said Griz. “You can deliver the horses for the tribe, and get closer to your destination in much less time than if you traveled on foot.”

“When will we leave?” asked Ennis.

“You promised to stay until the wedding,” said Kagelolit.

Griz nodded. “The horses should be delivered right away, so I would say that if you left the day after the wedding, everything will work out for the best.”

“How long will it take for us to get there?” asked Ennis.

Jack lowered his eyes. “How will we find the way?” he asked.

“Don’t worry,” Griz tightened his grip on Jack’s shoulders. “I’ll ride with you until we reach the main road to Boston. From there, you must simply follow the southern riverbank until you reach the sea. You’ll have no trouble finding your way and the speed at which you will travel- you’ll be there in three day’s time at most.”

Jack frowned.

Ennis’s face lit up, his eyes bright in the firelight. He slapped Jack’s knee and shouted, “How about that? We’ll be there in no time.”

The palms of many hands joined in the drumming. Feathered dancers drifted in sweeping movements around the fire.

Jack’s shoulders sagged.

“What’s wrong Jack?” asked Griz.

“I’ll be sad to leave you,” Jack said solemnly. “Our time here really was well spent- after being found innocent, of course.”

“But you can send word to Griz,” said Kagelolit.

“Yes, and you can write to me from sea, and I’ll pass your messages along,” said Ennis. “Surely you’ll write to me. I may even be able to visit with Griz myself sometimes.”

“I know we haven’t seen the last of you,” Griz smiled at Ennis. “Nor you.” He pulled Jack in for one more tight squeeze before letting go. “And that reminds me that I must write up a letter of competency for you. A recommendation from me will earn you a position on any sailing ship you choose.”

“Jack? A competency? Only the most skilled and noble gentlemen carry one,” Ennis nodded approvingly, his eyes wide.

“Well, Jack will need one if he wishes to see the world. I’ll need to work on writing it soon, if you plan to leave in a few days, but for now, I have other business,” Griz said, standing to leave.

“I used to have dreams of a competency myself, but I’m more of a land-bound laborer as my new name would indicate,” Ennis laughed, shoving an elbow at Kagelolit.

“I’ll leave you young folks to enjoy the rest of the evening,” Griz bade them goodnight and left to tend to his other business with his tribe.

The drumming rhythms intensified as more Indians rose to dance or to apply their own talents to the skins. Ennis looked to his left to see Jack swaying despondently to the hypnotic music and to his right, where Kagelolit raised his eyebrows, obviously anxious to speak to him alone.

Ennis was thankful when he needed no other diversion than Walhana and Kikaimen leaving the circle to approach Jack.

“Come, friend. We see you moving back and forth there on the bench. You know that you want to join us,” Walhana said.

“But you have a lot to learn before you can dance like one of us, white man,” Kikaimen laughed.

Walhana nudged Kikaiman out of the way, “It is good to see you looking so well. Come with us and we will teach you how to dance for the wedding ceremony,” he said, extending a hand.

Jack looked pleadingly at Ennis.

Ennis saw Jack’s spirits were lifting from when he spoke to Griz about their departure. To grant him this favor was the least he could do. The medicine men meant Jack no harm.

“Go on,” Ennis smiled. “You can show me what you’ve learned later.”

Jack joined the men in their dancing circle that surrounded the bonfire’s flames. Ennis watched wistfully as Walhana and Kikaimen took him by his hands and led him to the beat of the music. 

Kagelolit shifted closer to Ennis’s side.

“Ennis, my friend,” he whispered, when the other men were out of earshot. “First let me say how thankful I am that you are free. I know it is what you have dreamed of since arriving here in the manner you did.”

Ennis turned to him. His grey eyes were soft and sincere. “Thanks to you, Kagelolit. You’ve been a good friend to me here. To me, and to Jack, both,” Ennis nodded.

“Yes, and I want to continue to be a good friend,” Kagelolit said. “I couldn’t help but overhear the plan Griz has for you and Jack to leave and deliver the horses after the wedding.”

“Yes, I can’t wait. We will be at K.E.’s in no time at all.”

Kagelolit’s eyes scanned the dancers. He whispered low to Ennis, “I am concerned because if I leave as I intended, to meet with Owassa, it might cast my tribe’s suspicion on you.”

“How do you mean?” asked Ennis.

“The tribal leaders may think I left to run away with you. Or worse, they might think you and Jack kidnapped me.”

“They’d think we kidnapped you? Why?”

“It doesn’t matter why. They would fiercely protect another tribe member, no matter how lowly. My people have grave concerns about the way we are treated by the white man. It would not look good if I disappeared at the same time you leave to deliver the horses.”

“I understand,” Ennis said. “But, what can we do about it?”

“I do not know.”

“I hate to see your plans get messed up. You’ve waited patiently for your chance to escape to be with Owassa, but I really must go to my brother’s house at once.”

Ennis’s eyes sought Jack as he leaped and danced around the fire, following the steps of his teachers. 

Walhana continually had to spin him around so he faced the proper direction. Ennis shook his head.

Kagelolit took notice of what had captured Ennis’s attention. “He still needs a breechcloth,” he laughed.

Ennis smiled before speaking, “As I recall, you planned on disappearing to meet with Owassa the night of the wedding.”

“Yes, it will take me several days to travel to her village.”

“And now Jack and I will be leaving at the same time.”

“It will be suspicious, too much of a coincidence. I just want to tell you, friend… I will wait.”

Ennis sat up straight on the bench. “You’ll wait? But you’ve already been waiting all this time,” Ennis said.

“I will let a few days pass before I go,” Kagelolit said thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you can afford to do that?”

“Owassa will understand if I am late,” Kagelolit lowered his eyes.

“She will?”

“Foolish white man,” Kagelolit shook his head. “You do not know that no obstacle, not lateness or the thundering sky, not the winter’s snows or the armed tribes of men can stand in the way of true love.”


	27. Chapter 27

_“Foolish white man,” Kagelolit shook his head. “You do not know that no obstacle, not lateness or the thundering sky, not the winter’s snows or the armed tribes of men can stand in the way of true love.”_

It was late when Ennis and Jack left the firepit, but Kagelolit’s words stayed with Ennis through the days that passed. He wanted to believe they meant that Kagelolit wasn’t angry with him, that his reunion with Owassa would take place no matter what forces worked against it. Kagelolit deserved happiness as much as Ennis, yet Ennis felt responsible for compelling him to postpone his rendezvous. He spent his time sorting and packing clothes and provisions, hoping the meeting would be as joyous for Kagelolit and Owassa, as seeing K.E. would be for himself.

Flexing his toes up and down in his new moccasins, Ennis watched the wedding procession enter the circle, paying little attention to the Indian dignitaries and the rituals they observed. He focused more on his handsome companion, bedecked in deerskin and a feathered headdress, his eyes shimmering with firelight.

He noticed that nobody struck the marriage pole that had been sunk into the ground at the circle’s entrance. Doing so would have announced a disapproval that needed to be resolved before the wedding could continue. Instead, the participants walked to the drum’s beat, chanting the ancient gathering song, each tying a ribbon to the marriage pole before taking their positions for the ceremony. The application of sacred oil made Jack’s naked chest gleam in the firelight, his breechcloth fluttering with the movement of his hips, his long hair tucked behind the headband from which his feathers dangled.

“Can you think of anything else you two need?” Kagelolit asked from behind them, his voice a whisper. “It will be late before this night ends and you will not have much time to gather anything else before morning.”

Ennis turned his head to see Kagelolit, watching him shake his own regal headdress, the rawhide strips enhanced with jewel-toned feathers. “I think we’ve got everything, friend. Thanks for all your help.”

Kagelolit smiled and moved back into place. “We will say our farewell in the morning, then.”

Ennis turned his attention to Chigabid, who stood at the front of the assembly, directing the tribe to silently listen to his words.

“As our elders have taught us- there is no right or wrong in ceremony. You must do what your heart tells you. Perform the sacred rites in a sincere way, and all of our relations of the past will understand. Be thankful to your ancestors that you remember them in your blood.”

Ennis thought about his own marriage ceremony, the one that never took place. He wondered if it would have been anything like this. Maybe the words would have been similar, but he doubted anyone from Salem would recognize him, half-naked with deerskin trailing down the front of his thighs. After more than a month with Jack, he barely remembered what Alma looked like. But he still felt the sharp stare of her disdain and her spittle striking him while he was his most vulnerable.

“What’re you thinking about?” whispered Jack.

Ennis’s lips went thin. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Ennis lowered his head while Chigabid continued in some kind of prayer. He remembered the medicine men chanting the same words over Jack, when he was helpless on the ground.

“Oh Great Spirit, whose voice we hear in the winds and whose breath gives life to the world, hear us. We come before you, as your children. We are small and weak, we need your strength and wisdom. Let us walk in beauty and make our eyes ever behold the red and purple sunset, make our hands respect the things you have made, our ears sharp to hear your voice. Make us wise, so that we may know things you have taught our people, the lessons you have hidden in every leaf and rock. We seek strength not to be superior to our brother, but to be able to fight our greatest enemy- ourselves. Make us ever ready to come to you with clean hands and focused eyes, so when life fades as a fading sunset, our spirits may come to you without shame. We have spoken.”

Ennis grinned, the fire and brimstone crowd certainly would not have tolerated a speech like that- without any reminder that they were all destined for eternal damnation if they got out of line.

“Never heard anything like that in church before,” he said, sitting to follow the behavior of the celebrating Indians, his bare shoulder brushing against Jack’s. He felt the connection through their skin, and whether it was right or wrong for them to be touching while they witnessed this sacred ceremony, the sensation sent a flood of warmth to his belly.

Ennis inhaled the scented air. Breathing something sweet and intoxicatingly exotic, he turned to see Walhana waving a smudge stick as he meandered around the circle. The scent of freshly burned herbs wafted nearer and he noticed the long smoldering pipe being passed from one participant to the next.

Chigabid circled Aliwa and Megeso four times. His voice chanted the words of his elders, and although Ennis didn’t understand the language, he knew what the words meant. He knew that marriage joined them together before their Great Spirit, and bound them together for their lifetime. He wondered about Alma. Things would have been worse if he discovered her unwillingness to stand by his side after the ceremony had been performed, and it was too late.

He watched Jack as the couple were joined, a ribbon of sweetgrass encircling their wrists while they held hands, symbolically binding them together. Whatever the future held, from this night forward, Aliwa and Megeso would face it together. Unspoken questions about Ennis’s future hung invisibly in the air, but the only answer that met with Ennis’s acceptance wasn’t one that would permit him a future with Jack.

He turned from Jack and watched the ceremony, taking a long shaky breath from the pipe when it was passed to him.

“Aliwa, will you have Megeso to be your husband, to live together in sacred marriage?”

“I will.”

“Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and be faithful to him as long as you live?”

“I will,” Jack’s lips moved with Aliwa’s.

Ennis smiled at him and shook his head. Suddenly, their time together seemed much too short. In only a few days, their journey would end. Ennis would stay with his brother and Jack would find work at sea. There was no other way, no matter that it seemed unfair.

“Megeso, will you have Aliwa to be your wife, to live together in sacred marriage?”

“I will.”

“Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and be faithful to her as long as you live?”

“I will.”

Ennis nudged Jack’s hand and he stopped moving his lips with the words. 

“Creator, giver of life,” Chigabid continued, “Bless with your goodness Aliwa and Megeso. They have given their sacred words to each other in the strength of your love. Enable them to grow in love and peace with you and with one another for all of their days.”

Ennis pointed to the marriage pole. “I know about this part,” he said, watching as the ribbons were removed from the pole and tied around Megeso and Aliwa’s hands. “I made those.”

“I remember,” said Jack.

After the pole was stripped of the ribbons, Chigabid pulled it out of the ground. He walked to the fire and held the staff over his head. All eyes were on him, the center of attention in a ceremony that had been performed for countless pairs in his lifetime.

“Aliwa and Megeso have given themselves to each other by their sacred words and with the joining of their hands. Those whom the Creator has joined together, let no one break apart.” He stepped forward and tossed the pole into the fire to be consumed by the flames that would render it to ash, never to be the same again.

Griz wandered over and placed a hand on Ennis and Jack’s shoulders, “Do you know what we do next?”

“I can guess,” said Jack.

And without any hesitation on the part of the drummers, the music began and the married couple weaved their way around the celebrating tribe. Ennis applauded and danced like the others, shouts of glee infusing the mid-summer night woods.

“Come on, I’ll show you how it’s done,” said Jack, his body swaying to the music. 

Kagelolit slapped Ennis on the back. “You will be sorry you did not learn these dances earlier,” he laughed.

Ennis allowed himself to be dragged around the circle by Jack, the tribe laughing at his efforts to keep up with the steps. At first, he could barely manage to follow along, but by the time the wedding feast was served, he had acquired a healthy appreciation for Jack’s lessons and the rhythm he had found in his own feet.

The music and dancing continued when the meal ended and after a few more trips around the circle, and rounds of the pipe had been passed, Ennis yawned and suggested to Jack that they should head back to the wigwam since a long day of travel lay ahead of them.

“You think they’ll know we’re up to something if we leave together after all this dancing?” Ennis asked.

“Ennis, we’ve been sleeping in the same wigwam since we got here,” Jack said. “I think if they had a problem with us being together, it would’ve come up before now.”

Ennis sighed and tapped his fingers to the drumbeat. “Must be the herbs from that pipe worrying me, I guess.”

“It’s alright. I need to talk to Walhana first anyway. Go back alone if it’ll make you feel better. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll see you back at the wigwam, then,” Ennis said, before making his way down the familiar path.


	28. Chapter 28

_“I’ll see you back at the wigwam, then,” Ennis said, before making his way down the familiar path._

Ennis pushed the doorflap open. Firelight spilled across the birch walls illuminating the interior where he and Jack had spent the past few days sorting their supplies into crates. For a three day trip, they didn’t want most of what Griz had offered them. Too many goods would bog them down, and slow their progress. Still, they accepted some of what was given, figuring that Ennis would need more than the clothes on his back when he arrived at K.E.’s place, K.E. never being too fond of sharing with his younger brother. And God knows Jack would need as much gear as he could lay his hands on when he started out on his sea voyage, the letter of competency allowing him to write his own ticket, setting sail for southern climes.

Ennis slumped against the crates. He brought a hand to his head and dragged his fingers along the feathered headdress, pulling it off and laying it on the floor next to him. His head felt fuzzy from the pipe, the dancing, and the rich food, not to mention his uncertainty of what the future held, with or without Jack. He leaned forward to undo the rawhide laces of his moccasins, his feet sliding across the plush fur that carpeted Griz’s guest quarters, a place reserved for entertaining European visitors and his fellow merchants who frowned on the savage lifestyle and preferred a more opulent setting in which to do business.

Ennis peeled the leather down from his calves, the pliant animal skin folding over itself at his ankles. He tugged at the heels of each shoe until they came off and cool air struck his damp feet. Stretching his legs in front of him, he tossed the moccasins into a crate, turning his head in time to see Jack at the wigwam door.

“That was fast,” said Ennis, taking in the sight of the man whose attention he would have all to himself, now that they were alone in their private nest.

Jack stood still for a moment as the magical light flowed through the door of the wigwam, the drums at the circle still pounding out a rhythm as ancient as time itself. He tossed something from his hand onto the furs, but before Ennis could touch it with questioning fingers, Jack had sunk to his knees, filling the open space between Ennis’s thighs, his hands twining through Ennis’s hair.

“I didn’t want to let you out of my sight for too long,” Jack murmured through searching lips that soon connected tenderly with Ennis’s mouth. “Not looking like this,” he added with a chuckle, breaking away for a moment. 

Ennis’s hands went to Jack’s waist, fingers skimming over the taut skin of his flanks as they kissed. Jack’s muscles felt smooth under his hands. He sensed Jack’s cock, already hard and pressing into Ennis’s ribs. Ennis moaned, his mouth full of Jack’s tongue, the rasp of Jack’s beard brushing his lips. He found the feathers dangling down Jack’s back and tugged until the headdress slid off, landing with a hushed whisper on the furs.

Jack pulled away and sat back on his haunches. He ran his strong hands down Ennis’s chest. Ennis moaned when his fingers stopped to flick across his nipples on their way to find the knot of leather that fastened the belt to his breechcloth. Ennis gripped Jack’s shoulders, steadying himself, his eyes closing with the sensation of Jack’s touch.

Outside the celebration continued, the drums taking on a new rhythm. A different dance had begun.

Ennis shifted to let Jack’s hands sink lower so they could work the knot loose, his panting breaths sending tendrils of Jack’s hair aflutter, glimmering in the soft light that imposed itself on the wigwam walls as the flames of the bonfire rose higher. Jack unwrapped the leather band, the cloth sliding to the floor.

Jack skimmed his hands over the length of Ennis’s leaking cock, fingers delving into the crisp curls of his crotch, cupping and teasing his balls, the hair curling around his fingers like it was made for that very purpose.

Ennis let his hands slide down Jack’s chest to pick at the leather clasped around his waist.

“Hold on,” Jack said.

“What?” Ennis breathed.

“I’ve got something for us.”

Jack twisted to his side and searched for the object he had tossed onto the furs. It had been knocked out of reach, so he crawled on his knees to retrieve it. Ennis leaned forward and grabbed for Jack’s feet, pulling his moccasins off and tossing them aside. Jack found what he was looking for and scrambled back to Ennis, a vial in his hand.

Ennis rose on his knees and squinted to see what Jack carried. The joyous chants of celebrating Indians emanated from the firepit and danced through the summer night air when Jack lunged back into Ennis’s embrace. Like two puppies at play, they nipped and nuzzled in their meeting until Ennis rested his cheek on the soft dark fur of Jack’s belly, inhaling the sacred oils that perfumed his skin. His tongue darted softly into Jack’s navel while his fingers found the knot on Jack’s belt and unfastened the leather. He unwrapped Jack’s girded loins, tossing the breechcloth onto the crate of other clothing that had found its way into the wigwam.

Jack’s cock swung free and Ennis took it in both hands, running his tongue along the underside of it before he licked the juices of Jack’s anticipation from the tip.

“Come on,” Jack moaned softly as he pressed down on Ennis’s shoulders, pushing him onto the furs, his back against the crates. He straddled Ennis’s hips and threaded one hand through Ennis’s hair, resuming their kiss.

Ennis slid his hands over the back of Jack’s thighs. “What do you have?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, hands kneading Jack’s skin.

Jack’s mouth quirked into a smile meant only for him. “Here,” he said, uncorking the vial, “Hold out your hand.”

Ennis presented his palm, turning it upward to catch what Jack was giving, Jack’s cock painting shimmering trails down the pale skin of Ennis’s belly as he moved. He poured a small amount of oil into Ennis’s hand- not enough to cup into a pool, but enough to wet his fingers substantially.

Ennis’s eyes met Jack’s as the slippery liquid dripped onto Ennis’s fingers.

“Where did you get this?” Ennis asked.

“Walhana,” Jack replied. “I had told him we needed something better than spit.”

Ennis smiled at first, but soon frowned. “What if-”

Jack laid a finger over Ennis’s lips. “Hush. We have nothing to fear here.”

Beads of sweat formed on Ennis’s forehead. “I’m worried,” he whispered, as if confessing a dark secret into the ears of the only man that could put his mind at ease.

“I know,” said Jack, taking Ennis’s face between his hands. “You worried about what’s going to happen after we leave?”

“Yes.”

“It’s alright,” Jack breathed. “No need to think about it now. Can’t help us any.”

“When we get back,” Ennis started. He took a deep breath and sighed, the regret rising to the surface. “This will be over. I’ve been thinking about it every day, but there is no other way.”

“I know,” Jack said, pinching Ennis’s earlobes. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. This might be all we have, Ennis. I want it. It doesn’t matter what happens later, we may never have the chance again. Let’s take it while we can, while we still have a choice.”

Ennis believed Jack’s eyes. “This is what I want,” he said. “What you want.”

Ennis wrapped one arm around Jack’s shoulders while he slid his coated fingers underneath Jack’s balls. He traced a wet circle around the soft flesh of Jack’s opening before sliding a finger in and listening to Jack gasp, his eyes drifting shut as he absorbed the pleasure. Jack’s mouth fell open, breathing in the scented air. Ennis stroked Jack’s insides, kneading the surrounding skin until it was butter-soft and waiting.

Ennis never imagined it would feel like this with Jack. He ran a slicked hand over his cock and their mouths met again, their eyes focused in a bond of unbroken trust. Everything he had ever felt for Alma had long flown by the wayside in comparison. He just wished there was a way that they could be together like this always. He dragged his dripping cock across the crease between Jack’s balls and thigh, seating the head at the entrance to Jack’s warm confines where he let Jack take the reins.

Ennis’s hands curled under Jack’s arms, his fingers pressing into his shoulders while Jack bore down, taking in his veined length until he was fully sheathed, Ennis gasping with the power Jack had over his body. Jack rested his forehead in the hollow of Ennis’s neck while he panted breathlessly, his cock trapped between their rippling torsos.

“You alright?” Ennis had to know.

Jack raised his head off Ennis’s shoulder. The cool air washed over Ennis’s chest with the separation, but the light of the fire was enough so he could see Jack nod. He watched Jack’s eyes as he shifted up onto his knees to slide and squeeze his way along Ennis’s cock.

Ennis fought to keep himself from thrusting upward into Jack, but the sight of Jack with his head thrown back and the sounds of the drums beating in time by the fire helped them find a rhythm.

Ennis tried to fill the ache inside Jack and himself, the only way he knew how. Their breath and sweat mingled as if they were one living thing, no longer destined to wander the earth apart.

When they both could not control their passion any longer, Jack rolled his hips forward, sending a powerful spray of release between them. Ennis followed, spending himself deep inside Jack’s body, sealing the connection made on a dangerous Salem street, and nurtured in the wilderness of the New World.


	29. Chapter 29

_When they both could not control their passion any longer, Jack rolled his hips forward, sending a powerful spray of release between them. Ennis followed, spending himself deep inside Jack’s body, sealing the connection made on a dangerous Salem street, and nurtured in the wilderness of the New World._

Exhausted by their efforts, sleep came easily to them, despite the noisy celebration that continued on into the night. As the revelers’ enthusiasm faded and they each found their sleeping place, so did quiet descend upon the Indian camp at last, just as the new day began. The horizon glowed with the blending of the night sky into the day, the stars disappearing one by one as the bird’s call and insect’s chirp reminded that tasks awaited completion. Breakfast needed to be prepared, and two former captives would have the chance to become weary travelers again.

The men had slept soundly, except for the occasional joining of their bodies in sleep. A stroke here, a caress there, their skin reluctant to be separated from its mate, as if to drift too far to the edge of the furs would be enough to shock the sleeping body into knowing something was not as it should be, sending a hand grappling for the assurance that the other was still there, asleep by his side.

Ennis stirred when a ray of sunlight penetrated the frame of the wigwam door, warming his face and causing a damp lock of hair to dry into a frizzy curl in its tiny glow. He could hear Jack’s breathing soft and undisturbed.

Ennis had a good sense of how he lay, even without opening his eyes to the early light. Jack’s morning erection nudged unintentionally along Ennis’s left thigh. Ennis’s right foot was trapped between Jack’s legs. His left arm had long fallen asleep under Jack’s neck sometime during the night. His right shoulder felt the sweet caress of Jack’s left palm as it increased and decreased in pressure with his breathing.

Ennis exhaled a steady breath, careful to not disturb his sleeping partner. Jack’s breath made the sparse hairs vacillate on Ennis’s chest, the mildly annoying tickle not nearly distracting enough to make Ennis budge from this cherished place. Jack raised his head off Ennis’s left shoulder and brushed the pads of the fingers of his left hand across Ennis’s lips. Ennis couldn’t help letting his mouth curl into a smile.

Jack quirked an eye open. “Morning,” he said.

Ennis rolled onto his side and kissed Jack’s scruffy neck.

“Morning,” he murmured into the warm skin, the soft dark hairs tickling his lips. “Did you sleep well?”

Jack fought a yawn and untangled his legs from Ennis. “My head felt dizzy. I think it was from the pipe, but I slept alright once the wigwam stopped spinning. How about you?”

Ennis couldn’t answer because before he could speak, Jack had rolled on top of him and slid his wet mouth to a nipple, teasing it with his tongue, lighting in a fire in Ennis’s belly and shooting a red hot spark of excitement directly to his cock.

“I-” he stuttered. He grabbed Jack’s head, pulling his mouth off his nipple with a loud plop, causing Jack to grin. “I slept, but I’m still tired and we have a long day ahead of us. Will you be… you know… alright to ride?”

Ennis watched wide-eyed as Jack took inventory of his physical well-being. He hoped that their lovemaking hadn’t jeopardized their travel plans.

His eyebrows shot up when Jack grimaced. Ennis would be at a loss to explain why Jack couldn’t ride to the Indians, no matter how tolerant they had been of the two men spending their nights together, or how helpful the two medicine men had been at supplying them with a vial of slippery oil.

His mouth fell open when Jack displayed a deeply furrowed forehead and shifted his eyes erratically from side to side. This was too much for Ennis to bear.

“Jack?” he managed to croak out.

Ennis’s concern finally diminished when Jack burst out laughing, unable to keep the ruse up any longer.

“Oh, so you want to play around, do you?” Ennis laughed through clenched teeth, using his legs to leverage Jack off him, forcing him onto his back. Ennis pinned Jack’s wrists over his head and nipped at his swollen lip, the bruise almost faded entirely now.

“I know how eager you are to leave here,” Jack whispered into Ennis’s mouth. His eyes showed an understanding that Ennis could only have hoped for in his wildest dreams- to be able to leave this place and go to the comfort of his brother’s home. The dream was becoming a reality for him now, and he had the promise of Jack’s full support.

“I am.”

“I won’t let you delay us any longer,” smiled Jack.

“Me?” laughed Ennis. “Is it _me_ delaying us?” He ran a finger along Jack’s cheek.

“It’s not my fault. I can’t help it if I’m irresistible,” said Jack, pushing his hips up to grind his cock into Ennis’s.

“Yes, we need to leave now,” said Ennis with a sigh. 

The sound of murmuring voices drifted from the nearby firepit as the morning meal was prepared.

“But just wait until Griz leaves us and we are alone in the woods again,” Ennis continued as he ground his cock into Jack’s equal hardness. “I’ll expect to be given my due at the first clearing we reach that has a stout tree where we can tie the horses… Attitash.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it… Manahan,” said Jack.

The men separated physically one from the other and went about the task of dressing for the day, their travel clothes planned and set aside for them previously.

They stepped into the bright light outside the wigwam and ran into Griz on the short path to the firepit. Griz seemed somber as they shared the same bench and silently ate their breakfast, Ibezela making sure they had extra servings of fry bread to take with them on their journey.

Much of the camp still slept, letting the effects of the wedding celebration wear off slowly. Ennis didn’t expect the village to give them a big send-off. In fact, he was grateful that he and Jack could escape into relative obscurity. Their capture and release probably wasn’t something that the Indians would remember with too much fondness, except for the joy it brought Griz to be reunited with the boy he knew when he was younger.

Ennis smiled to see Kagelolit emerge from the path’s entrance. He trotted up to Ennis when he saw him on the bench.

“I didn’t know if I’d wake up in time to see you off,” Kagelolit said, his grey eyes squinting in the morning sun.

“I’m glad you did,” said Ennis. “I wouldn’t have felt right leaving, without us having a final word.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Griz, crumbs of bread catching in his beard when he spoke. “You can help us load the horses.”

Kagelolit agreed to help. He snagged a piece of fry bread from a passing tray and the men followed Griz to the corral where the three horses awaited them. The sky had turned to a brilliant blue and the promise of good weather held. They saddled the horses and led them to the wigwam Griz had offered for Jack and Ennis’s stay in the Indian Village.

Griz would be riding his own favorite sorrel, while Jack and Ennis each would ride a bay, much younger than the one they had stolen from the musketeer that nearly dragged Ennis back to Salem Village. Kagelolit climbed into Jack’s horse’s saddle while Jack held the reins steady from the ground. Ennis passed the crate to Kagelolit and he lashed the supplies onto the animal’s back.

The same procedure followed for Ennis’s horse. The goods had long been packed and ready for their journey, secure on the backs of the horses that would carry the men to freedom. The crates seemed heavier than they had when Jack and Ennis packed them. Ennis wondered what extra clothing and supplies either Griz or Jack had snuck into the crates when he wasn’t looking. With everything loaded and lashed at last, the only task that remained was to ride away.

“Kagelolit,” Ennis said, clasping the man’s arm. “Friend.”

Kagelolit embraced Ennis, thumping him on the back with a bronze-skinned hand. “Be safe in your travels,” said the Indian.

“I wish you luck in your travels as well,” said Ennis. “And if our paths ever cross again, I won’t forget your friendship.”

“Jack,” said Kagelolit, when he separated from Ennis, holding an outstretched hand to him.

“Thanks for all your help,” said Jack, ignoring Kagelolit’s hand and embracing him as well.

Kagelolit smiled when the man released him. “Take good care of him,” he said, nodding at Ennis. “And safe travels to you too, Griz. We’ll see you back here in time for dinner.”

Griz waved to Kagelolit and mounted his sorrel. Jack and Ennis followed, each mounting their horse and following Griz down the well-worn path upon which they had arrived. Before they passed out of sight, Ennis turned to wave one last time to Kagelolit, thankful that he had met an unexpected friend on his journey through this strange place.

As he rode, he wondered what adventures lay ahead for Kagelolit. He knew he would be imagining his reunion with Owassa for some time to come, and hoping that it would turn out for the best, with no one dead or bloodied by violence that was all but certain to ensue. The memories of the Indian, and his undying desire to be with the one woman he was forbidden from marrying, might somehow become a lesson in perseverance to Ennis in the future. If only he could know if Kagelolit’s quest was successful, perhaps it would give Ennis the courage to pursue his desires as well.

The horses galloped on, over hills and through valleys, until they reached the riverbank where Griz would leave them to seek their own futures.


	30. Chapter 30

_The horses galloped on, over hills and through valleys, until they reached the riverbank where Griz would leave them to seek their own futures._

They dismounted to stretch their legs and allowed the horses to drink from the wide river that would eventually empty into the sea, some day’s journey east. The midday sun cast no shadows on the long brown path that met the main road to the coast. Ennis stood and leaned over to his right side, bending at the waist, his golden curls dangling in the sunlight. The tri-cornered hat he was wearing fell to the ground and he stooped to pick it up, brushing the dirt from it with the back of his hand before replacing it on his head. He then shifted to his left side, working the kinks out of his back after riding for so long.

Griz unpacked a bag in which he carried an ample supply of food for them to enjoy, one last meal to be shared together before they went their separate ways. While Griz was out of earshot, Jack caught Ennis’s eye and feigned a groan, while clutching his backside. Ennis regarded him warily, suspicious of the playful antics his companion had devised solely for teasing him. He sidled up to Jack and used his nose to push the strands of dark hair away from his ear.

“Is everything alright?” he whispered low.

Jack burst out laughing, pulling Ennis’s hat off his head and making a beeline for the river. Ennis gave chase and tackled him onto the grassy bank while the horses looked on.

“Come on boys,” Griz called. “This’ll be the last home cooked meal for a few days.”

Jack grinned at Ennis before pushing him off. They helped each other up to their feet and joined Griz where he had spread the food.

Griz had remained somber all morning as he led the men to the main road. Now, as they ate lunch and the time for Griz’s departure had arrived, he seemed more resolute in the wisdom of Jack’s plan to find work aboard a ship, a plan that Griz himself would generously facilitate.

“I’d be a fool to expect you to stay with me, Jack,” he said. “A lad like you ought to travel and see as much of the world as you can.”

“I’d like to stay,” said Jack, buttering a piece of fry bread. “None of what has happened to me in the past month was anything like what I expected to find in the New World. I never dreamed I’d see you again, or join an Indian tribe. I could get used to living there, you know.”

“I’d give anything to have you stay, but I’d just be keeping you here for selfish reasons, so I won’t.”

Ennis picked at the clumps of clover that covered the ground where he sat. He wished there was a way they could stay with the Indians, for Jack’s sake at least. He could imagine Jack being happy living with Griz and the tribe. Ennis would then be able to pay him an occasional visit. It seemed better than sending him off on a sea voyage from which he may never return.

When they finished eating their meal, Griz reluctantly readied his horse for the trip back to the camp. He embraced Ennis first, patting him on the back, his massive hand beating against the fabric of Ennis’s shirt.

“Remember,” Griz whispered in Ennis’s ear. “He can take care of himself. He’s been doing it for all these years.”

Ennis pulled back and looked into Griz’s eyes. They burned with blue fire just like Jack’s.

“I know he can,” Ennis said.

“You’ll be there to help him for as long as you can, but try not to worry so much about him. He’ll come out of this fine. He always does,” Griz patted Ennis’s shoulder. “Still, I’m glad he has you on his side, for as long as you can ride it.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” said Ennis.

“Jack,” Griz turned and held his arms open for Jack to fill.

Jack rushed forward and clung to the man who held so many of his memories.

Ennis truly couldn’t imagine how Jack must have felt when he first recognized the mentor from his childhood, brimming with good cheer and vitality. The shock couldn’t have been greater if Ennis discovered that his own parents were alive after all these years, the accident that killed them miraculously a mistake. Ennis moved forward to stand beside Jack when Griz let him go. He placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder while Griz mounted his horse.

“You know where to find me,” Griz called to Ennis. 

Ennis waved in understanding.

“And you,” he pointed at Jack. “I’ll be able to keep track of your adventures when I meet with my colleagues on my visits to the seaport. I’ll be keeping watch for you. Godspeed to Newburyport, and I wish you both the best.”

With that, he turned his mount and galloped down the road from which they came, dust hanging in the air behind him.

Jack and Ennis stood in silence for a moment, listening to the departing hoof beats.

Soon, only the sound of tiny waves lapping at the shore could be heard as the current took the water east to the great ocean and beyond.

Ennis rested more of his weight onto Jack’s shoulder.

“You’re going to miss him,” he nodded.

“I never thought I’d see him again,” replied Jack.

Ennis pulled Jack close and held him, rubbing his back softly. He tilted his head to look at Jack’s face. He could detect no sadness in his eyes.

“Are you upset? That he’s gone?”

Jack wove his fingers into Ennis’s hair, catching an earlobe between his thumb and forefinger.

“No, I could never be sad about that, Ennis,” he smiled. “I’m so grateful that I got to see him again at all.”

“Hmm,” Ennis nodded. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to kiss Jack right there or wait until they had ridden awhile longer. The chances of someone approaching the crossroads and catching them in an inappropriate embrace was greater than if they rode onward and found someplace with a little more privacy. Perhaps Jack needed some time alone with his thoughts to reflect on their departure from Griz. Maybe continuing their ride was just the thing that would help Jack to come to grips with what Ennis could only deem as a sad parting. “Are you ready to move on?” he asked.

“We should try to cover some distance before nightfall,” said Jack without letting go.

Ennis pressed his forehead to Jack’s. The mention of nightfall and the smell of Jack’s skin, the feel of Jack’s hands roaming down Ennis’s back and cupping his ass made him speak before thinking, “I believe I have the promise of an interesting evening ahead of me.”

“I see no reason to break that promise,” murmured Jack, hands still groping and squeezing.

Ennis quickly looked around. The horses grazed on the clumps of grass at the riverbank. There was no sign of anyone traveling from either direction on the road as far as Ennis could see to where the road bent into the pines.

“Come on,” Ennis said, taking Jack by the hand.

“Wait,” said Jack, letting his fingertips slide from Ennis’s before jogging to the horse that carried his supply crate. He fished around inside and found what he was looking for.

“Follow me,” Jack shouted. He ducked behind the pines, his boots tracking through the needles, scattering cones as he ran.

Ennis promptly followed, gaining ground when Jack turned to check his progress, the warm wind rushing past his ears. His hands caught hold of Jack’s waistcoat and he tripped over his own feet bringing them both tumbling to the ground in a breathless heap.

“Caught you,” Ennis laughed.

Jack propped himself up on his elbows and arched his neck so his lips met Ennis’s mouth. Ennis touched Jack’s probing tongue with his own, his hands tangling in Jack’s hair as he fell onto his back bringing Jack on top of him.

“I’ve finally got you alone again,” breathed Jack through their kisses.

“Never thought we’d be,” whispered Ennis, lacing his fingers through Jack’s and holding tight.

Jack pushed against Ennis’s hands and straddled him. Without wasting any time, Jack freed his fingers to work on the laces of Ennis’s trousers, Ennis’s chest heaving with desire. Once the laces were undone, he shoved the trousers down, Ennis kicking them aside, the pine needles pinching into his naked skin as he moved.

Jack shucked his own trousers and knelt between Ennis’s thighs. He quickly slicked his fingers and pushed them in, beneath Ennis’s straining cock and heavy balls. Ennis closed his eyes and took in the sensation, sliding his hands under Jack’s shirt and stroking the warm skin with his fingertips.

Rays of sunlight streaked sideways through the trees, blurring the scenery with an opaque curtain of suspended dust and insect trails.

Ennis opened his eyes in time to see the beads of sweat forming on Jack’s forehead as he spilled more oil onto his cock, making it glisten. Then he slid in, Ennis wrapping his lean legs around Jack’s thighs and rocking together until they both reached their shuddering release.

In the noiseless forest, Jack collapsed on top of Ennis, damp-haired and panting. Ennis traced circular patterns across Jack’s back following the fabric’s brocade, while mosquitoes alighted on the men’s exposed flesh, causing Jack to twist and swat them away.

“This feels so good, Jack, but we should be going,” Ennis said after awhile, his legs cramping and body crushed under Jack’s weight.

“Yes, we need to cover some distance before nightfall,” Jack said, raising up onto all fours and allowing his cock to slip out of Ennis.

Jack located his trousers and produced a handkerchief from the pocket, using it to mop both of them off.

“Shh,” said Ennis suddenly.

“What?” asked Jack.

“Listen.”

They remained still, and heard the slow trot of hooves and voices approaching along the road.


	31. Chapter 31

_They remained still, and heard the slow trot of hooves and voices approaching along the road._

“Hurry!” said Ennis. He pushed himself up, using his hands to get his balance with Jack still kneeling between his thighs.

Jack turned and clawed at the ground, reaching for their discarded clothing. “Here,” he said, tossing Ennis’s trousers to him before reclaiming his own.

Ennis scrambled upright. He shoved a foot into one pantleg and struggled fruitlessly with the other before realizing it had been turned inside-out in their haste. He fussed with the fabric until it was right, pulling the trousers up, only to draw them down again when he felt the jab of pine needles that had stuck to his skin.

Jack had somehow managed to dress fully, tucking in his shirt and brushing the forest duff from his clothing. The unseen horses had come to a halt and their riders spoke in muffled voices from beyond the trees.

“That’s better,” said Jack, helping Ennis brush himself off. “I’ll go greet them while you finish dressing.”

“Alright, go!” said Ennis.

“Oh… and… I think we’re going to have to make this up as we go along.” Jack gave Ennis a quick wink.

“Whatever you say,” Ennis sighed as he watched Jack throw back his shoulders and stride toward the road where the travelers were now dismounting.

“Hello, friends,” Jack called, disappearing between the trees.

Ennis pulled his trousers up again. They were more comfortable this time. He couldn’t hear what was being said by Jack and the strangers, but his mind drew the worst conclusions. What if these people were witch hunters from Salem? What if they were survivors from Reverend Gyllenhaal’s ship sent to capture Jack?

He laced his trousers and smoothed his shirt into them.

That’s all they’d need, to be caught together half-naked in the forest. Only a few fortnights had passed since they escaped from Salem. Surely some angry villagers still lurked somewhere. They wouldn’t mind putting the hangman’s noose around Ennis’s neck.

He lifted his hat from the ground and replaced it on his head.

What were they thinking- going for a roll in the pines when others might still be hunting for them? Anyone could approach them from any direction now. They’d have to be more careful since they were nearing civilized society again. The lax attitude they had adopted with the tribe could prove dangerous. And what in hell was Jack going to say to these people?

Ennis walked through the gap between the trees.

“Well, look what we have here,” said the taller of the two riders. He took aim with his musket, pointing it in Ennis’s direction.

“What are you doing?” asked Ennis, raising his hands in the air, his eyes wild.

“Hold on, hold on,” said Jack, stepping between the musket and Ennis. “He’s with me. No need to treat us like we’re your mortal enemies.”

“Well, you never can tell,” said the teen in a raspy voice. His kinky black hair was pulled into a ponytail and he looked to be older than his companion who snickered next to his horse. He dropped the musket to his side, but still looked cautiously at the men.

Ennis lowered his hands, but clenched his fists instinctively, still deciding whether they were going to end up in a fight. He wasn’t sure what Jack had already said to the two horsemen, but he got the feeling that this wasn’t going to be a friendly encounter.

“Yeah, no telling who you are,” said the second man who seemed to be only an oversized boy with tangled red hair and a blemished face. “What were you doing there in the woods?”

“None of your business,” said Jack. “And if you two want to accuse me of something, have at it. We’ve got nothing to hide, least of all from two ne’er do wells like you.”

Ennis shifted from one foot to the other, unsure whether it was wise to let Jack do all the talking.

“What gives you the right to talk to me like that?” said the redhead, casting a glance sideways, nodding when he saw his companion reposition his aim.

“We could ask you the same thing,” said Jack, stepping forward.

“What gives you the right to harass citizens of the Commonwealth?” asked Ennis, nervous for Jack, who was clearly fixing to pull some stunt to disarm the men. He moved closer, following Jack’s lead.

“We’re on a special assignment,” the man-boy sneered, before raising his hands to shove Ennis away.

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” asked Ennis, keeping an eye on Jack, still moving forward.

“We don’t have to answer you. You’re not our goddamn mother,” said the teen raising the musket, but Jack was already there. He shoved an elbow into the teen’s chest and grabbed the weapon from his hands without much effort.

“You’ll not be speaking of mothers in such a way,” Jack spat, holding the musket out of reach.

Ennis grabbed the redhead’s hands and twisted an arm behind his back. “Wherever you two are headed, I suggest you get going.”

“We’re on our way to Quinsigamond,” whined the redhead. “Let go of me!”

“Worcester, you idiot,” said his tall companion. “I keep telling you- it’s called Worcester now.”

“What business do you have there?” asked Ennis, leaning to focus better on his detainee’s face. “More people to harass?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“No,” he stammered. “We’ve joined the militia. They need men to help defend the town against Indian raids.”

“Men? They’ll all be killed if it’s up to you to defend them,” said Ennis, giving the youth a push before releasing him.

“Indian raids?” asked Jack.

“Just last month the redskins tomahawked a whole family,” the older boy spoke. “They want the town to be settled, but no one wants to live there if there’s a chance they’ll be killed.”

“We’ll be paid for enlisting. Fifteen pounds just to sign up,” said the redhead.

“I’ve heard of the raids there,” said Ennis, glancing at Jack and noting the concern in his eyes. “The tribe that lives in that part of the Commonwealth is more aggressive than most.”

“That’s right. One way of keeping the population growing is by paying fellows like us to settle there,”   
said the dark-haired militant. “We watch over the town, if any Indians come along and try to disrupt things, we’ll kill them.”

“Plenty of women there, too,” said the redhead. “I suspect we may end up marrying before long. Maybe you’d like to come with us?”

Ennis couldn’t imagine any woman being attracted to such an imbecile. He looked nervously at Jack, wondering what kind of response he might return.

“No, we have other business to attend to,” said Jack.

“What business is that?” asked the older boy.

“Not that it’s any concern of yours, but we’re on our way to deliver these horses for Sir Jamieson Bartholomew Griswold. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

“Only the most well-known merchant in the seacoast,” laughed the redhead. “Well-known for joining the Indians.”

“He’s a respected man,” interjected his companion. “And, if you won’t be joining us, we’d like to be on our way.”

Ennis stood back and watched the men mount their horses. At the last possible moment, Jack handed the musket back to the dark-haired youth.

“You might watch your attitude when greeting strangers in the woods,” Jack said.

“So you say,” the youth said, securing the musket before urging his horse to gallop away, the red-haired boy following close behind him.

Jack and Ennis stood and watched them disappear down the road.

“Well, that was a close call,” said Jack when they were out of sight. He ran his hand soothingly over Ennis’s arm.

Ennis only grunted.

“I’m glad they’re not headed toward Griz’s camp, even if they seemed to be incompetent. I don’t want to think of Griz or his tribesmen getting hurt.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to help the people they’ve signed on to protect.” Ennis began walking toward the horses which had long since finished grazing. The river rushed by, pointing the men in the direction they needed to travel.

“Poor bastards,” said Jack. “They’ll probably get themselves killed.” Jack followed and stood beside Ennis as he untangled some brambles from the horses’ reins.

“We need to be more careful now, Jack,” Ennis said quietly.

Jack dropped his eyes and stroked the animal’s flanks. “Nothing would’ve happened,” he said.

“You don’t know that,” Ennis turned. “You walked right in front of the musket. What if you were shot or killed?”

“It wasn’t loaded.”

“That’s beside the point. You didn’t know for sure, did you?”

Jack looked away.

A summer breeze blew across the water, ruffling the flow with whitecaps and chilling the air at the riverbank.

“Look at me,” Ennis said, touching a palm to Jack’s cheek. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, or to me. We’ve come too far.”

Jack circled his hand around Ennis’s wrist and drew his hand away. “I don’t want anything to happen to us either.”

They mounted their horses and rode for the remainder of the afternoon, following the meandering of the wide river. The path before them was well-constructed and few obstacles blocked their progress. A downed tree here and there, a muddy patch that slowed the horses’ gait, nothing greater seemed to stand in their way. Ennis knew by the condition of the road and by the appearance of the other two travelers, that they would reach the coast in good time.

He and Jack prepared their camp as they had done before they were captured by the Indians, their old oilcloth becoming their shared shelter again. Jack managed to sound out some notes on the recorder after they ate their fill of food that had been prepared by the tribe for their journey. Despite their companionship, they drifted into an uneasy slumber, each tormented by the knowledge that they were no longer two solitary travelers who reveled in each other’s company. Now the eyes of others were upon them and their comfort level waned with each passing mile.


	32. Chapter 32

_Now the eyes of others were upon them and their comfort level waned with each passing mile._

In the morning, Ennis woke when the first rays of dawn streaked across the horizon. Jack had flung an arm over him sometime in the night, undoubtedly relishing their shared warmth in the cool air. The motion of their breathing crinkled the oilcloth as it raised and lowered slightly, Jack’s arm riding the wave of Ennis’s chest.

Ennis waited, quirking an eye open to observe the man’s face to ensure that he slept soundly. For the first time in weeks, he resisted the urge to put his lips to the smooth curve of his neck, to share the pleasures of their joined flesh in the morning hours. When he detected no sign of wakefulness, he slowly wedged his hand beneath Jack’s arm, taking its weight onto his own. The fabric of their shirts slid and rolled against each other like the winds across barren beach sand as Ennis lifted the sleeping limb. Ennis escaped from Jack’s embrace and lowered his arm to the soft bedding beneath the cloth.

He busied himself with repacking their supplies, silently cursing the songbirds that threatened to wake Jack, and call attention to the absence at his side. It was no use. By the time he returned to their bed with a bit of breakfast, Jack had awakened. The darkness in his eyes told Ennis that he understood things were going to be different now that the seaport was only a day away, a sad fact that Jack tolerated with even less acceptance than Ennis.

They wordlessly packed their camp and set out on the long straight road again. The temperature rose and the air became mild. New hatchlings of insect life swarmed whenever the horses slowed to step over a blowdown or negotiate a boggy area.

In late morning, they passed a father and son who worked to repair a wagon by the side of the road. Jack suggested they stop to assist them, but since they neared the confluence of the Musketaquid and the Merrimac, where the colonists had built a settlement, there were plenty of resources nearby if necessary.

More travelers came into view as Jack and Ennis approached the colonial village of Chelmsford. Some tipped their hats in greeting, others simply galloped past without an acknowledgement. A few stopped to discuss the road conditions when they traveled in the opposite direction.

They stopped to water their horses and visit the tavern there, finally breaking into the bag containing the coins Jack had stolen from the parsonage. Over a silent meal of ale and roast chicken, each man was painfully aware of time passing, each hour bringing them closer to their goal, each step leading their way to the coast.

Ennis daydreamed as he rode behind Jack. He remembered the intimacy they shared in the past weeks, but already a cloud of haze filled the space between what was remembered and what was real. Observing the man’s ass jouncing up and down in the crude saddle, he had no other thoughts, except how pleasing Jack was to watch. Ennis was content to accept what was before him, without any plan to maneuver the forbidden act of observation into his everyday life. The presence of the passing travelers gave Ennis no confidence to do otherwise. He regarded each with lowered eyes, hiding his face from their scrutiny before glancing up again at the man he desired.

When the sun fell behind them, they stopped at a grassy meadow to camp for the night. The horses drank from the ever-present river while they gathered wood for a fire and set their well-worn oilcloth for what could be the last time.

A sliver of moon had risen in the sky, its brilliance competing with the sparks that flew from their fire. They passed the skin back and forth, warming their hands at the flames between sips of cold ale. They heard the weary hooves and creak of wooden wheels turning on their axels long before they saw the travelers that approached their camp.

Ennis stood and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jack scrambled to his feet and strode between the fire and the road, as the cart emerged from the shadows.

“Hello there,” called a hoarse voice.

“Hello stranger,” called Jack.

“May we join you at your fire?” the voice asked. The man stumbled forward and removed his hat, allowing his blonde hair to fall loose. “We’re very tired.”

Jack gave Ennis a quick glance. Ennis’s lips went thin and he nodded.

“Yes, please join us,” said Jack, warily returning to the fire.

The man lumbered back to his horses and climbed onto the cart.

“It’s alright, mother,” he said, helping the rider down from the wooden planks that were piled high with a few ratty bundles.

Even at this distance, Ennis noticed that the woman trembled as she stood in the cart. The wheels let out a final squeal when she stepped down.

The new arrival led the woman toward the fire. Ennis moved over to allow room for the pair to sit, the skin of his face cooling when turned away from the warmth.

“I’m Jonathan. This is my mother,” the traveler said, helping the woman to sit.

Ennis nodded to the pair, his eyes meeting Jonathan’s, dark like his own.

The woman raised her chin to show a delicate face, her eyes closed above tear-stained cheeks. She whimpered as she bent her body to sit on the cold ground, her long gray hair gleaming in the firelight.

At first, Ennis thought she was uncomfortable, her frail body too weak to move with ease, but when she began to sob, Ennis couldn’t help but wonder why she was so distressed.

“Ma’am?” Jack asked, before Ennis could phrase his question. “Is everything alright?”

The woman leaned her head back and let out a low wail, the cords of her throat tense like a clothesline hung with heavy blankets, the wrinkled skin pulled taut.

Ennis looked at Jack before turning his attention to Jonathan.

“My mother is very upset,” he breathed heavily, his eyes darting from one man to the next. “We’ve come from Salem Village. We witnessed some disturbing sights there.”

“I’m from Salem,” Ennis said, without thinking of what the consequences of such an admission might be.

“What did you see?” asked Jack, his eyes moderating Ennis’s reply.

A cool breeze gusted across the river, flattening the fire and sending sparks across the grass.

Jonathan waited for the wind to die before he spoke. “The night before last, we were in Salem when the witches were brought to the gallows.”

The woman’s head sunk to her chest. She shuddered with tears while Jonathan comforted her, an arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“The night before last,” Jack repeated, touching Ennis’s elbow. “The night of the wedding.”

“Yes,” Ennis nodded. “It must have been awful.”

Ennis wasn’t curious to know the particulars of what fate befell the unfortunate accused, but Jonathan continued anyway.

“Five women were led to the hanging trees upon Gallows Hill. Before the night was over, five bodies swung lifeless with a noose around each neck.”

The woman dug her fingers into Jonathan’s arm, her nails clawing into his tattered overcoat. She sobbed and moaned while he ran a hand over her hair, saying, “There, there.”

“Horrible,” said Jack, his eyes drifting across the fire toward the woods. “Did you know them?”

“Yes, they were our neighbors, friends,” said Jonathan. He gave his mother’s shoulder a squeeze. “But the executions have only begun. There are still many who await the same fate.”

The horses softly nickered in the dark.

“My mother,” said Jonathan, confiding in Ennis and Jack, as if the woman was not present, “She could have been next.”

Jack lowered his eyes to the ground.

Ennis huffed out a warm breath, a white cloud in the chilled night air. He knew he could have been in the same situation as this weeping woman. He looked to Jack, whose mind seemed elsewhere as he stared into the forest.

“Well, you’d best take care of your animals,” Ennis spoke. “You are welcome to spend the night by our fire.”

Later, Jack and Ennis finally settled under the oilcloth. Ennis made sure he kept his distance from Jack while in the presence of the strangers, now sleeping a mere twenty feet away. He stretched out exhausted and bootless on his back.

Jack crawled over, pressing the full length of his body to Ennis, his arms enfolding him. Ennis sighed, against his best intentions. As much as he wanted to avoid Jack, the smell of his skin and the feel of his body so close was difficult to resist. He turned so Jack’s back was to his chest and his nose nuzzled in his hair.

“Need to get some sleep,” he whispered, fingers stroking soft.

“I know,” said Jack, pushing back against him, ignoring Ennis’s proclamation.

Ennis pulled Jack tighter into his embrace, but sleep soon came, the tiredness from a day in the saddle proving a worthy opponent to their desire.

Only one short hour had passed when Ennis was stirred awake by the woman’s sustained sorrowful moan. He propped himself on an elbow to get a better look, but Jonathan and his mother appeared to be quiet.

Ennis listened to the interim silence, hoping she simply had a bad dream, and would soon fall asleep again.

But it was not to be.

She softly cried out her lament, followed by long void moments, before her voice continued to pierce the night again.

Jack seemed to wake to the sound, but he uttered no words. Instead, he shivered in Ennis’s arms, an uncontrolled quaking that grew more intense with the woman’s wails. Ennis placed a palm to his forehead, stilling him.

“Jack,” he said, too loud to be considered a whisper.

“I can’t listen to it anymore,” Jack replied, his voice a plea, as the wailing continued.

“What?”

“I can’t!”

“What do you mean?”

Jack pushed the oilcloth away and sat upright. “I’m leaving.”


	33. Chapter 33

_Jack pushed the oilcloth away and sat upright. “I’m leaving.”_

“You can’t just leave,” said Ennis, smoothing a comforting hand down Jack’s arm.

“Yes, I can,” Jack said, leveraging himself to his feet. His hands shook and his legs looked like they could barely hold him steady. “I can’t listen to it anymore.”

“There’s nowhere to go,” said Ennis, shimmying out from beneath their tattered covering, alarmed at Jack’s distress. “Don’t be a fool.”

“It’s the sound!” Jack paced back and forth, treading a short path through the matted grass. He clutched his head between his hands, as if to block the cries from reaching his ears.

Ennis struggled to his feet. The early dew cooled and dampened his bare toes. He tried to contain Jack in his arms, but Jack shoved him away just as quickly as he reached him. 

“I won’t stay here. I need to get away,” Jack said, his words punctuated by angry stomps as he headed for the horses.

Across the meadow, the woman moaned next to her son. Ennis gave them a cursory glance as he jogged toward Jack. He could discern Jonathan’s shadowy figure hovering over his mother as she convulsed with anguish, her cries becoming louder.

“Jack,” Ennis called, long before he caught up to him. He sped toward the river and reached for Jack’s hand, but Jack wrenched himself away with flailing arms and wild elbows. Sweat ran down his face, flushed and as pale as the moon.

“I need to go now,” Jack’s voice became a high pitched whine of exasperation. His utterance concluded with arms and legs and naked feet scrambling away from Ennis.

“Jack, you need to think about this,” Ennis said, but before Ennis could shelter him with the comfort of his arms, Jack worked with desperate fingers to untie his horse from its stake.

Ennis had never seen Jack like this. If he insisted on leaving, Ennis quickly decided he would follow him. He had no other choice. He couldn’t leave his companion to ride off into the dark woods where animals or bandits or savages awaited him in his nightmares. The woman’s cries had triggered something in Jack that made him insane. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ennis pleaded. He saw his opportunity when Jack yanked at the rope in defeat. Ennis seized Jack’s arms and wrestled him away from the tethered horse, tumbling with him onto the grassy riverbank.

Jack’s body protested, but Ennis held him tight, limiting his angry pushes and jabs.

“Wait,” Ennis continued. The soft murmurs in Jack’s hair belied the grip he had on Jack’s heaving body.

The woman’s moans and sobs still emanated from their sleeping ground, reaching their ears just as the licks of firelight touched their faces. They lay tangled together along the shore, the wind breathing heavily off the water.

“I have an idea,” said Ennis after a moment.

Jack simply nodded, much to Ennis’s relief. Maybe Jack had finished struggling for now, his body exhausted from the attempt to escape the crying sounds.

“Can you walk with me back to our camp?” Ennis asked, his chest still heaving from the battle.

“No,” Jack wailed, his eyes going wide. “I can’t go back there. I can still hear her.” Jack smashed his ear into Ennis’s shoulder and freed a hand to block the other.

“Shh, you can,” Ennis said. “It will only take a moment, and then I’ll find us somewhere else to sleep.”

A gust of wind blew across their chilled bodies, dissipating their voices in the night air. Jack exhaled a solitary shaky breath and Ennis knew he had won.

“Come on,” Ennis said, releasing his grip, but keeping hold of Jack’s hand for assurance. “We’ll be quick.”

He stood and pulled Jack to his feet, still not letting go of his hand as they made their way back toward the fire, one small step at a time.

Jonathan gave the men a look of apology when they came into view. His mother still shook and sobbed, but it only took a moment for the men to pass her.

“It will be alright,” Ennis said, his lips close to Jack’s ear. If he kept speaking to Jack, perhaps their departure from the field would be easier. When they reached their bedding, he grasped the corner of the oilcloth with one hand, his other hand still enfolding Jack’s to calm him.

“Come now,” Ennis said, dragging the oilcloth across the grass, leaving some of their belongings strewn behind them. He turned onto the road, dirt clinging to the bottoms of his feet as he walked.

“Where are we going?” Jack asked.

The crying became even softer as their distance from the fire grew.

“Just going to find another spot away from them,” Ennis said. His eyes met Jack’s and he half-smiled, trying to improve the situation for his sake, trying to make his eyes tell Jack that everything was going to be alright.

They stumbled along the road for nearly one hundred yards, before Ennis found a flat patch of ground on which to spread their cloth.

“See, I told you we’d find a place,” Ennis whispered, despite their distance from the other travelers. “We need to get some sleep.”

He finally let go of Jack’s hand long enough to clear some branches and pine cones from the chosen spot before guiding Jack onto the oilcloth and settling within its folds.

“I’m sorry,” said Jack, slumping against Ennis.

“No,” said Ennis, throwing a protective arm over Jack. “You don’t need to be.”

Ennis could feel Jack’s heart racing, the beat faster than any Indian rhythm they had recently learned. Jack wedged himself into Ennis’s arms, filling the empty space like tidewater rushing upon the shore, no room for air between their bodies.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to move away from them sooner,” Ennis said. He squeezed his eyes shut. For all the planning he did to try to keep his distance from Jack, no amount of foresight could have prepared Ennis for the feelings he had for Jack in his needful time. The desire to provide comfort overwhelmed him.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Jack breathed. “I didn’t mean to run off alone.” Jack raised his chin and Ennis, sensing the movement, opened his eyes to look into Jack’s before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

If Ennis had meant to distance himself from Jack, he had failed. Now, instead of avoiding him, he stretched out against him, every inch of their clothed bodies touching. No escape from their shared warmth, words, or feelings, remained.

“Why did you want to run off?” asked Ennis. One hand toyed in Jack’s hair, the other applied pressure to his back, keeping him close.

“It was that woman’s cries,” Jack said. His gaze left Ennis’s, and he stared at his chest instead. “I hear the same cries in my dreams sometimes.”

They had moved far enough away so that the forest was quiet now. Only the sound of the wind rustled the trees.

“I have bad dreams too,” Ennis said, pulling back. “But I never feel the need to run off into the night. It was disturbing, but why would you do that?”

Jack was quiet for a long moment before speaking. “The woman’s cries reminded me of the day my mother was killed. I heard the same cries in Jonathan’s mother’s voice as I did from my own mother. I hear them still, when I sleep.”

Ennis stopped moving his hands. “I’m sorry Jack,” he said, before resuming his caresses. “You told me that your mother died when you were a boy. I didn’t realize she was killed.” He leaned against him, twining a leg through Jack’s, their bare feet rubbing. “Do you want to tell me more about it?”

Jack inhaled deeply. “There’s no sense in speaking of it, when there’s nothing that can be done to change what happened.”

Ennis tightened his embrace. Night had fully darkened the sky, the moon disappearing behind the trees. “I know there’s nothing that can be done, but at least if you tell me about it, I could listen to your story and find some reason for why you would run away into the night, so I may discourage you if it were to happen again.”

“I should have told you awhile ago,” Jack said, his voice a hushed whisper. “She was accused of witchcraft, just as you were… but for her, there was no escape.”

Ennis reached for Jack’s face, stroking a palm across his softly bearded cheek. “Is that why you rescued me from the stocks? Because you could? When you couldn’t save your mother?”

“I’m not sure. I think it was good fortune that put us in the town square at the same time on that day. I needed your help as much as you needed mine.”

“Yes, but-” Jack stopped Ennis’s words with a finger to his lips.

“We’ve spent too much time in silence today to discuss such issues of fortune and regret at this late hour. You said it yourself that we need sleep, especially if we plan to ride to the coast tomorrow.”

Ennis had to admit that what Jack said was true, although their conversation gave him many reasons to toss and turn as he slipped into sleep. He tried to keep still as they lay in each other’s arms, for Jack’s sake, pleased that his torment had diminished. If he could make Jack forget the terror of his mother’s cries when she was killed, he would. He used his body to soothe him so he slept soundly, the wailing woman a distant memory.

When they woke in the morning, Jonathan and his mother had already packed their belongings and were nowhere to be found. The wheels of their cart had plowed through the damp morning dirt of the road, disquieting the smooth soil and leaving a track as far as Jack and Ennis could see. The time had come for the men to leave their own tracks upon the roadway. If they made good time, they could reach the coast by nightfall.


	34. Chapter 34

_The time had come for the men to leave their own tracks upon the roadway. If they made good time, they could reach the coast by nightfall._

They rode in a daze along the thoroughfare, too tired to speak of the events from the previous evening. Even if Ennis could manage to ask the right questions, he wasn’t sure that Jack would give him the answers. Ennis was inclined to wait until the subject appeared on its own, not wanting to disturb the calm waters. The details of Jack’s stormy past remained like an immature trout, rising to the water’s placid surface, only to be ignored until it sank deeper, leaving only a brief ripple in its wake.

Mid-morning brought them to the village of Andover, where they decided to splurge on a hot meal. Their poor sleep, and early waking, left Ennis yawning from his mount.

“Soon, we’ll be finished with this style of commuting,” said Jack, slapping a few coins down onto the rough tavern table.

“You’ll only be trading one form of travel for another,” said Ennis. He sliced a wedge of bread to accompany the steaming bowl of stew that the barmaid placed in front of him.

“Maybe,” said Jack, dipping his bread into his own bowl. “Maybe not.”

“What are you saying?”

Jack took his time chewing on the bread before he swallowed it down with a gulp of ale.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, resting his hands on the table in front of him. “Perhaps Griz’s word of my competence may serve me as well on land, as on the sea.”

“How do you figure that?” Ennis grunted out.

Jack made eye contact, but Ennis looked away just as quickly. “Maybe I could try to find work somewhere here, on the land. If no one from my ship has been looking for me, there would be no need for me to sail away. I could take a job anywhere in the New World, maybe even in Newburyport. Your brother must have found employment there. Perhaps I could find a job there as well-”

“Jack-” 

“I already know what you’re going to say. You think there’s no chance of me getting hired to work on anything besides a sailing ship, but tell you what,” Jack said, his voice a low purr, “I am good with my hands-”

“Jack!”

“What?”

“Someone’s going to hear you,” Ennis said, hunkering down in his seat.

“Oh, Ennis, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jack winked. “What I meant was that I can make things, maybe not entire ships, but I do know about lumber, and how to pick the right trees. I know how to position the blade to saw the right cuts to make whatever you need. There’s bound to be a mill somewhere that’s looking for a hired hand. Think about it. We could-”

“You gents need anything?” the barmaid asked. “More ale, perhaps?”

“No, our business will be finished here soon, thanks,” Ennis said, covering his tankard with a shaky hand.

“Haven’t seen you two around before. Staying in town?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

“No, we’re on our way to the seacoast. Best that we keep our wits about us,” Jack said.

“Well, you might make it there in time for another round at suppertime if the rain holds off,” she said before departing to serve other patrons.

The men finished their meal and turned their horses onto the road again. A gray streak of clouds had moved in from the west while they had been stopped at the tavern, although the sky ahead of them remained a soft shade of blue.

Their journey as solitary travelers had ended now. Only short stretches of the road could be traveled without passing fellow colonists going about their daily business. The clopping hoofbeats of less-burdened horses punctuated the air when they sped by, their riders on their way to some unknown destination.

Ennis kept his eyes forward, even when Jack slowed to speak to fellow travelers. A greeting here and there, questions about the distance they had come, or had yet to go before nightfall. Ennis avoided their discussions and shrank into himself, not wanting to call attention to the fact that two men were riding to the coast together, any more than necessary.

As Jack lingered in conversation with others, Ennis grew tired of gauging the words for double meanings. He worried that Jack would say something that would land them both in hot tar and covered with feathers, or worse.

Each time they moved on from Jack’s social acquaintances, Ennis breathed a sigh of relief. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that every person they met seemed to look at he and Jack as if something were wrong. The familiar worries of the past month crept up on him.

What if colonists recognized Ennis as an accused witch, who had escaped his trial and punishment? 

What if a sailor from Jack’s ship had been searching the wharves and seaports to bring Jack to justice?

He heaped the old concerns together with the new.

What if they ran into militants like the two ruffians they had seen the day before?

What if Jack couldn’t perform the tasks he claimed he could- and was sent to the brink of insanity by the simple sound of a woman’s cries?

And more importantly, what of the near future that loomed around the next corner?

Would K.E. welcome Ennis into his home?

And what would happen when they were on the brink of separation?

Would Jack be willing to go on with his life as he had planned, sailing south?

What if he wanted to pursue employment here in the colonies?

Would he be able to forget about the past month and a half they had spent together?

Would Ennis be able to?

Ennis couldn’t imagine any worse fate than being caught and made to suffer the same torture as the accused witches and heathens he had seen when he was a young boy. It was safer to keep his distance from Jack while they were in the company of others, and make the separation permanent when they reached K.E.’s.

These thoughts weighed heavily on Ennis while the afternoon turned into twilight. Time flew by faster than ever, with the end of their journey as near as the sea breeze that freshened their lungs and the taste of salty air that dusted their lips.

They soon reached the ferryman’s house on the riverbank, where they dismounted and rapped on the wooden door. The road they had traveled still stretched toward the coast, while another intersecting road turned south to Newburyport and the ports of Salem and Boston beyond.

“K.E. lives not two miles from here,” Ennis said, not to anyone in particular.

The ferryman, a young fellow with slicked-back hair and a protruding overbite, greeted them. Jack quickly arranged for their ride, explaining that they needed a round trip across the river to Amesbury and back, but that the horses would not be returning with them.

“Just in time,” the ferryman said.

“What do you mean?” asked Ennis, walking the horses onto the barge.

“I don’t like to take stock aboard when it becomes any darker than this,” the ferryman said, steering them across the wide channel. “When folks want a round trip at night, I’ll stable their horses and ferry them across without. Pick the riders up when they’re ready to come back.”

Ennis spoke softly to the animals, petting their flanks, calming them for the short voyage across the river. The smooth water reflected the waxing moon, its image dancing on the surface without hinting at the true depth that lay below the obsidian calm.

Jack paid the man when they arrived at the far side, their feet finally standing in Amesbury, this stage of their journey complete.

“I am wondering if you might know a merchant by the name of Seth Treadwell?” Jack asked as he doled out the coins.

“You’ve got business there?” asked the ferryman.

“Yes, and we’ve been told that his home is on the river’s edge. Have you any idea whether we will be able to find it before nightfall?” asked Ennis.

The ferryman laughed. “Nightfall may be the best time to find it.”

The horses softly whinnied, stomping the solid ground.

“Why is that?” asked Ennis.

“Take a look downstream,” said the ferryman.

The men leaned over the water and saw what the ferryman had called to their attention. A bright glow shone from the land, illuminating the riverbank as well as the surface of the river. The men could see figures moving along the shore.

“What are they doing?” asked Jack, whispering for no reason.

“Treadwell is hosting a ball tonight,” the ferryman replied. “Guests have come from all over to attend. Of course they’re from a higher society than you two.”

Ennis shrugged. “We still can deliver the horses, can’t we?”

Jack chewed on his bottom lip. “Sure we can,” he said.

Ennis sighed with relief. His civilized disposition had reached its limit. They had traveled so far and Ennis had worried so much about getting to his brother’s house, he believed that another setback would send him running into the woods like a lunatic, as Jack had done the previous night.

“Take care,” shouted the ferryman, as he left to steer the barge back across the river.

Jack and Ennis led the horses along the shore road, walking toward the brightness flowing from the expansive home that came into view. Ennis lazily dragged his feet, the light at the end of their journey growing closer by the footstep.

They soon reached a wooden fence, short enough to peer over, but tall enough that the horses couldn’t pass. Strains of violin floated above the garden beyond. Ennis squinted toward the glazed windows where figures moved in the light.

“We need to go around,” said Jack, motioning toward the narrow pathway next to the fence.

“Stop right there!” shouted a gruff voice in the dark.

Ennis stopped in his tracks.

“Us?” he asked weakly. 

Soon, the guards surrounded them.


	35. Chapter 35

_“Stop right there!” shouted a gruff voice in the dark._

_Ennis stopped in his tracks._

_“Us?” he asked weakly._

_Soon, the guards surrounded them._

The growing darkness masked the flurry of activity and words that passed.

“Stop shoving!”

“Watch the horses!”

“I’ve got one of them!”

“Here’s the other!”

A lantern illuminated Ennis’s face, blinding him toward the man that gripped him by the shirt collar.

“Just a pair of paupers,” the gruff voice said, turning to the other guard.

“They’ll be going nowhere,” spoke his accomplice in a voice that revealed his youth. “At least not now.” He shoved Jack toward Ennis, the lantern light painting his face with an amber glow.

Ennis regained his vision and pulled himself free from the guard, shrugging his shirt back onto his shoulders. Before he turned his attention to the men, the figures in the distant windows caught his eye again.

He observed from the garden fence as the dancers moved to the music inside. The blended sound of strings rose to a crescendo, the melody demanding Ennis’s attention. He stood, entranced, while the rich tones that escaped the windows and walls of the manor drifted to his ears, soothing him and erasing his momentary terror.

He relaxed for a moment, unable to force his eyes from the sight. Eight, nine, ten, he counted at least a dozen couples dressed in regal finery. Shining gold buttons that glinted in the candlelight, satin and lavish silk swayed in the air as the dancers moved across the floor. And the laughing-

“Maybe you two can explain why you’re trespassing on Master Treadwell’s property?” asked the older guard, shaking Ennis from his reverie.

“You’re not Redcoats are you?” asked the younger.

“No, not Redcoats at all,” said Jack. “In fact, we’re here to deliver these horses for Jameson Bartholomew Griswold.”

Ennis nodded in the lamplight, his attention on the men now, instead of the dancing. “Part of a trade he conducted with Master Treadwell.”

“We only want to fulfill the arrangement. Perhaps you can summon him to the gate and then we could be on our way?” said Jack.

“Nonsense! He is entertaining his guests. He can’t possibly be called outside. You’ll have to return in the morning,” the guard said. He turned to resume his watch, but first he looked Jack and Ennis up and down, “It’s a shame you two weren’t better dressed, or you could simply join the party and make your announcement to Master Treadwell now, before it begins to rain.”

“You mean we’d be allowed inside to see him?”

“He’s stone cold drunk,” said the guard. “He wouldn’t notice if strangers arrived unannounced to his party.”

“As long as you’re not Redcoats,” said the younger.

“But we can’t let you in looking like ragamuffins. You must be in full dress to attend the affair.” The guard motioned to Jack and Ennis’s clothing. Under the lantern’s glare, the clothes showed the trials of their daily travel. Stains of sweat and mud and sex and grass and horse and ale.

Jack quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, turning his open palms upward.

“So, be gone with you,” said the young guard, slamming the reins of the undelivered horses into Ennis’s hands.

“Better luck next time,” called the other.

Ennis watched as both guards disappeared into the darkness, continuing their patrol of the manor’s grounds. His shoulders sunk in frustration. It seemed like every obstacle possible had blocked their efforts to get to K.E.’s house. He shouldn’t have been surprised at this new complication. He tried to keep his voice from whining when he spoke, but he was so tired with defeat, he could do little else.

‘What are we going to do now?” Ennis asked. He sunk onto the ground and held his head in his hands.

“I’m thinking,” Jack said, unlashing the crate from his horse’s saddle before turning his attention to the parcel that Ennis’s horse had carried.

“We’ll never get to K.E.’s,” Ennis said. “I should have known that from the start.”

“Ennis, come here,” Jack said, gripping his arm and hauling him upright. “I’ve got an idea.”

Ennis could barely see what Jack had planned or where he was going as he led him into a patch of thickets. In the encroaching darkness, he watched as Jack cracked open the crate and began to remove clothing from it, holding up each piece in the scant moonlight before deciding whether to keep it at hand or move on to examine another piece.

“Go on, take your clothes off,” Jack said.

“What?”

“Go ahead and strip down. There are some fancy clothes in here from Griz. He must have thought we’d need them, and we do.”

“Oh, I see,” said Ennis, pulling off his boots and peeling his trousers down.

“Here, hold out your arms, we can’t afford to get these dirty.”

Ennis stopped unbuttoning his shirt and did as Jack asked.

Jack piled the chosen articles into Ennis’s arms. “Some of these things are quite old,” Jack said. He held a triangle of velvet to Ennis’s face for him to see.

“What’s that?” Ennis asked, skimming his fingers along the laces that dangled from each of the three corners.

“It’s a codpiece.”

“I haven’t seen one of those in ages.”

“I think it would look magnificent on you,” said Jack, his voice melting into a husky whisper.

Their eyes locked and Jack pressed the fabric against Ennis’s crotch, his fingers stroking the outline of Ennis’s hardness.

Ennis stood motionless, catching his breath from Jack’s sudden caress. Days had passed since they had been intimate together, and Ennis could not will his body to resist Jack’s touch, not completely, at least. He wanted to push Jack away, to tell him that this was wrong. They were going to be caught by the guards or by Master Treadwell himself. He wondered why Jack didn’t care about taking that risk.

Instead, Ennis swallowed hard and dropped the clothing when Jack reached behind his head to pull his face closer.

Ennis hesitated to move at first, craning his neck back to avoid the contact, but Jack only dug his fingers deeper into Ennis’s hair, meeting his mouth with insistence. He rubbed his nose against Ennis’s, inhaling the scent of his traveling companion before plunging forward to taste the words that Ennis kept well-hidden behind his sealed lips.

Ennis gave in. He opened his mouth knowing the futility of resisting Jack. He could see no other way to escape Jack’s persistence. Perhaps there was only one way to fight the undeniable force of Jack Twist. Agree with him. Go along with his ideas for now. Kiss his mouth and let him have the affect he did over Ennis’s body. There’d be time later when Ennis would be able to free himself from Jack’s persuasions. Wouldn’t he? They would soon be at his brother’s house and all of their passionate interactions would come to a halt. Of this, Ennis was sure.

They didn’t feel the raindrops begin to fall until it was nearly too late.

“Hurry,” Ennis said, pushing Jack away. “Everything will get wet.”

“Here, take these,” said Jack, tossing garments to Ennis.

Jack stripped his clothing off while Ennis dressed in the finery that Jack had chosen for him, minus the codpiece- much to Ennis’s relief. Avoiding the rain, he stood beneath the boughs of an evergreen, while Jack dressed in a matching waistcoat and breeches. To finish off their formal dress, Jack had found two overcoats within the crates that Griz had packed. He threw one over Ennis’s shoulders and donned his own.

The rainclouds had blocked the useful moonlight, so now they made their way to the manor without its guiding glow. Ennis led the horses by the reins as the men stepped toward the garden, careful to not get mud on their new clothes.

They followed the path along the fence until they reached a barn with the doors thrown open wide. An elderly groom that had been reclining on a bale of hay greeted them by his lantern’s light.

“You’re arriving a bit late,” the white-haired man chuckled. He shuffled toward Ennis and accepted the reins from him.

“We had trouble deciding what to wear,” said Jack.

Ennis scowled at him. “We’re here to deliver these horses to Master Treadwell.”

“Is he expecting you?” asked the groom.

“He wasn’t certain when we would arrive. The animals are part of a trade with Master Griswold.”

“Very well, then. You may just leave them with me,” said the groom, turning to lead the horses into the stable.

“Yes, listen, um…” Jack started.

“Gregory.”

“Gregory,” Jack patted the man on his shoulder. “We have no doubt that you will care for these animals, but we’d like to be let into the main house so that we, ourselves, may notify Master Treadwell of their arrival.”

“Well, I suppose,” said Gregory, looking them up and down.

Jack twisted slowly from side to side as if to show off his fancy attire.

“You’ll find the entryway around the front.”

Ennis shuddered a visible sigh of relief.

“What about these crates?” Gregory asked.

“We won’t be staying long. Could you leave them here by the door and we’ll collect them when we are ready to go?” asked Jack.

“Certainly, masters.”

Ennis and Jack left the groom to tend to the horses. They dodged the raindrops, running toward the main entryway, illuminated by candlelight.

As they got closer to the manor, the smell of rich foods wafted to their nostrils, despite the heavy mist that washed the air. The sound of laughter and music grew louder. Soon Ennis took the stone steps two at a time and stood beside Jack at the great doorway.

“Do I look alright?” Jack asked.

Ennis couldn’t help but nod in approval at Jack’s dignified appearance. “Do I?”

“Here,” Jack said, smoothing Ennis’s hair from his face, letting his thumb linger across Ennis’s bottom lip. “Perfect.”

Jack slipped his fingers around the rope that hung from the lintel. He yanked it downward, and a bell sounded. Then, they waited patiently for the door to open.


	36. Chapter 36

_Jack slipped his fingers around the rope that hung from the lintel. He yanked it downward, and a bell sounded. Then, they waited for the door to open._

“Ennis,” Jack whispered, having an afterthought.

“What?”

“If they ask our names, I need to tell who I am, because it’s the name on my competency papers. But you might want to make up a name for yourself, just in case the witch hunters have sent word this far north that they’re still looking for you.”

Ennis saw the concern in Jack’s eyes. “What will I say?” he asked.

The latch clacked upward and the door thudded, its rain-swollen wood separating from the doorframe with a shudder. Ennis glanced at Jack while the door swung inward, pulled by an enormous man with glassy brown eyes and rolls of sandy curls.

“Greetings good sirs,” he said with a flourish, still holding the latchstring in one chubby hand.

Ennis observed the doorman with his gold waistcoat and red breeches. He smiled to himself, pleased that he and Jack wore the proper dress that might permit them entry to such a lavish affair. Jack’s friend, Griz, seemed to think of everything to ensure that their journey to Newburyport went as smoothly as possible. It was no wonder he found such success as a merchant. He was a planner.

“Please make yourselves at home,” said the doorman. He closed the massive door behind them, blocking out the sound of the rain that fell in large drops, splattering the stone steps.

Beyond the entryway, the great room buzzed with activity. Dancers frolicked on the polished wooden floor, musicians extracted rich harmonies from their instruments, and servants circled the room carrying trays of food and drink.

“Master Treadwell knows how to throw a party,” said Jack.

“He does,” chuckled the doorman just as a servant appeared with a tray of wine-filled goblets made of the finest Venetian glass.

“Here you are, gentlemen,” said the servant. He passed a goblet to each man before disappearing to make his rounds in the main room.

“Cheers,” announced the doorman with a smile, before putting the goblet to his lips and tilting it to drink.

“Can you tell us where we’ll find Master Treadwell?” asked Ennis, when he felt it appropriate to speak.

“Oh, certainly. Do you mean to tell me that you’ve never been introduced?”

“Well, not exactly,” said Jack. “We’ve got a delivery of horses for him and we’d like to make him aware that they’ve arrived.”

“Very well, then. Follow me,” said the doorman, leading them into the great room.

Ennis absorbed the elegant surroundings. He had never seen such opulence as he did in the rich fabrics and furnishings of the manor’s décor. The room was lit by the glow of a thousand lanterns made of glimmering polished brass. Each window bore a white damask drapery which flowed from the ceiling to the floor.

Servants meandered through the crowd, carrying large platters of food from which the guests selected any number of delicacies.

“Try this,” said Jack, plucking two morsels from a servant’s tray when they were stopped in front of him.

“What is it?” asked Ennis, taking a nibble at the edge of the pastry crust.

“Tastes like steak and kidney pie,” said Jack, biting into the filling.

Ennis smiled and swallowed the remaining bite, licking his fingers when he finished.

He walked behind Jack as they wove their way across the room, following the doorman through the throng. The violins and lutes had ended one song and another began. The new ode resonated with the plucked strings of the harpsichord. Each note lingered with emotion through the great hall, enhancing the conversations and revelry taking place while the rain fell outside.

Ennis placed a hand on Jack’s shoulder when he stopped. Although he could barely see beyond Jack and the doorman, he presumed they had located Master Treadwell. He let his fingers slide over the velvet of Jack’s overcoat, wistful that it had been in the crate the entire time they had traveled from the Indian village, and it had gone unused. Well, not for much longer, Ennis smiled sadly. The way things were going, it would likely be their bed for the night, their last night together. He dropped his arm and found Jack’s hand. Their fingers brushed against each other, just for an instant, unseen by the boisterous crowd that squeezed them closer.

“Master Treadwell,” Ennis heard the doorman speak. “These gentlemen have come to your gathering and they have delivered horses from one of your trade endeavors.”

“Well, what have we here?” Treadwell asked. The nobleman with a bulbous nose and brown powder-streaked hair, held his arms outstretched. A wine goblet in one hand splashed the crimson liquid over the rim and onto the floor.

“Jack Twist at your service,” said Jack, bowing in a courtly greeting before the man. “I’ve brought the horses that were promised from Master Griswold.”

“That’s wonderful! I never expected to get the delivery so soon.”

“We’ve left the horses with Gregory. I’m sure you’ll find them to be in good condition,” said Jack.

“Yes, I’ll check them in the morning. And tell me how you came to associate with Master Griswold, are you a merchant?”

“Oh, no, not I,” said Jack. “Master Griswold and I were associates since long before we voyaged to the colonies. In fact, he’s given me a competency that I may find employment in the seaport.”

“Marvelous,” said Treadwell. “Remind me to speak with you about that later when I’ve had a chance to forget the wine I’ve drunk tonight. And who is your friend?” 

“Ennis,” said Ennis, quietly observing the man’s clumsiness as he swayed from side to side to the sound of the fifes and clarions.

“Only Ennis?”

“Yes, sir,” said Ennis, suddenly remembering that Jack had advised him to invent a name for the occasion. He could only hope that Treadwell was too drunk to notice. He quickly changed the subject. At least Jack had taught him that skill, which he embraced with some efficiency. “We had good weather for travel. We arrived in Amesbury tonight. It’s a fine gathering you’re having, but we’d like to be on our way.”

“On your way so soon?” asked a gray-haired guest, laying a hand on Ennis’s arm. “But you just got here.”

Ennis lowered his eyes to look at the hand first, before turning his gaze to the man bedecked in a green overcoat that covered a bejeweled vest.

“I insist that you stay,” said Treadwell. “In fact, my daughter was looking for a dance partner. Georgia! Oh, Georgia!”

“Yes, do stay, Ennis,” said the man in the green overcoat. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you before, although you look quite familiar. I’m Daniel Cooper-Carter.”

Ennis greeted the man with a handshake. “Cooper-Carter?” he asked.

“I used to be a cooper, but now I’ve graduated to bigger projects. No more barrel-making for me, although I earned a small fortune in the business. Carts will be the industry of the future, so that’s where I’ve put my manufacturing efforts,” said Carter.

“Georgia, there you are!” said Treadwell, seizing Jack’s goblet and depositing it on a servant’s tray. “Meet Master Jack Twist. I know he’d make a fine partner for you, my dear.”

Ennis ignored Carter, instead focusing his attention on the young lady who took Jack by the hand and led him to the open floor as the music began, this time with vocalists joining in the merriment.

_In vain the amorous flute…_

Georgia smiled brightly as Jack pressed his hands to hers, but that was where her beauty ended. She was plain and stout, with hair the color of a vole. Ennis wondered how someone with as much wealth as Treadwell could have such a homely daughter. Apparently, all the money in the world couldn’t make her look any prettier.

_And soft guitar…_

“Perhaps you have relatives in Newburyport?” asked Carter.

“Yes,” said Ennis, his eyes unmoving from the sight of Jack dancing with Georgia. “My brother lives in Newburyport. That’s where we’re going when we leave here. K.E. Del Mar.”

“K.E. Del Mar? That’s why you look so familiar. He only lives a quarter mile from me. I know him well,” said Carter, thumping Ennis on the back.

_Jointly labor to inspire wanton heat…_

Ennis ignored the thumping. Instead, he watched Jack. His face lit up as he spoke to Georgia, who smiled back and returned his conversation with vigor while they danced. Ennis had never before wondered what it would be like if Jack found someone else.

He couldn’t imagine it. Jack finding somebody to love? Somebody to share his laugh with? Somebody that wasn’t Ennis?

“You know,” Carter interrupted Ennis’s thoughts. “I must return to Newburyport later tonight. It sounds like the rain will stop soon. If you would like a ride to your brother’s, my cart is just across the river.”

_And loose desire…_

Jack closed his eyes, oblivious to Ennis’s thoughts. Ennis wondered if Jack wanted Georgia more than he wanted Ennis. She would be a good match for Jack. She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant. With her, Jack could have everything his heart desired.

“I may take you up on your offer, Carter,” said Ennis.

_Whilst thy chaste airs do gently move…_

Ennis watched while Georgia gazed into Jack’s eyes. It no longer mattered that she was plain. She was someone who had the potential to talk to Jack in the same way Ennis did. Someone to touch Jack in the same way. The same, but different. The way it was supposed to be, at least according to all these people. 

But how could Jack trust her with his life, when he and Ennis had shared so much? 

_Seraphic flames and heavenly love…_

Ennis would put an end to this. He swallowed the last gulp of wine and moved in to claim Jack as his own.

“We’re leaving,” Ennis said, sinking his fingers into the velvet arm of Jack’s overcoat, knowing he couldn’t let Jack Twist out of his sights for long.


	37. Chapter 37

_“We’re leaving,” Ennis said, sinking his fingers into the velvet arm of Jack’s overcoat, knowing he couldn’t let Jack Twist out of his sights for long._

“What do you mean?” asked Jack, arching his eyebrows, but keeping his gaze locked on Georgia while they continued their dance.

“I’ve got us a ride to Newburyport,” said Ennis, nodding to Georgia, whose lips snarled in disdain. “Ma’am,” Ennis added with a tip of his hat.

The vocalists metered out their song with calculated fervor, the dirge-like dissonance hanging in the air like a noose swinging in the breeze, but none of the revelers seemed to notice the interruption of the host’s daughter and her dancing partner. Laughing and merriment continued, despite the triad of conversationalists in the middle of the dance floor.

“And this can’t wait until the music ends?” Georgia asked, stepping backward and taking Jack with her, somehow keeping in time to the beat of the music.

Jack took the opportunity to cast a wary eye toward Ennis.

Ennis knew little about dancing, but he thought it amusing that Georgia tried to lead Jack from him. Her cunning smile made her look as innocent as a fox that had raided the chicken coop. The billowing skirts of her dress followed her, ballooning at the hasty movements across the floor when she tried to lure Jack further away from Ennis.

Ennis wasn’t going to stand for it. Jack’s affection belonged to him alone, and he wasn’t going to let go that easily. He moved with the couple, refusing to relinquish his hold on Jack’s overcoat.

When Georgia raised her chin enough to see Ennis’s grasp, she released Jack’s hands and punched her fists to her hips, her breasts shaking haughtily, barely contained in the bodice of her gown. “Perhaps you’d like to dance together,” she scowled at Ennis.

Ennis looked at Jack, his mouth gaping wide. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. Was it that obvious to others? That he and Jack were somehow connected together in a bond that knew no boundaries in public? He fought for the words he wanted to say- the words he had to say, if he didn’t want to be killed.

“No, no, I don’t think you understand what I mean, ma’am,” Ennis said, moving away from the pair.  
But Ennis had misunderstood Georgia’s meaning. Without a backward glance at Jack, Georgia seized Ennis’s hands and pulled him close. A new song had begun, this one with lively strings and the sharp notes from the fifes. Ennis had no choice but to go along with the young lady of the manor.

Jack grinned and stepped aside while Georgia pushed and pulled Ennis around the dance floor.

“You’re very lucky that you are so charming,” said Georgia. “Because it’s obvious that you can’t dance at all. If I were one of those girls who would raise a ruckus over dancing and such, I’d complain to my father and he’d have you and your friend removed from these premises at once.”

“No, ma’am. There’s no need to do that,” said Ennis, relaxing and bending to Georgia’s will for the moment, relieved that he and Jack hadn’t been discovered.

“Well, I won’t say anything to him about your interrupting me while I danced with your friend.”

“I didn’t mean any harm,” Ennis said, lifting his hands when Georgia nudged them upward to twirl beneath his arms. “In fact, we’ve traveled long days to arrive here so I could be reunited with my brother. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble now that I’m so close to getting where I want to be.”

“Hmmm,” Georgia looked worried, but Ennis smiled at her, hoping to convince her to understand how important it was for them to be on their way. “I just want you to know, my father is a powerful person and you have no business trying to spoil my party. You should consider yourself grateful that I’m interested in neither of you.”

“Uh... interested?”

“As a husband,” Georgia said. “But don’t worry, I can tell by the look of you that there’s someone else you fancy. Not me. Although I can’t imagine why not.”

“Fancy?”

“Some other maiden on which you have set your sights. You and your friend both have eyes for someone other than me. I can tell, you know. I am a woman.”

Ennis coughed out a gasp. He was unused to a woman speaking so frankly.

“Well, I can’t deny that,” said Ennis, admiring the way Georgia’s breasts swelled from her dress while she led him across the floor. He looked around the room for Jack, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for someone?” she asked.

“Just wondering where Mr. Carter went,” said Ennis.

“He’s there by the doorway. We can make our way over to him. Let’s go, since you’re in such a hurry to get away from me.”

“It’s not that,” said Ennis, following Georgia’s lead as she tugged him to the edge of the dance floor, where Carter waited.

“Mr. Carter,” Georgia addressed the nobleman.

“Georgia, my dear, I see you’ve been entertaining your new guests,” said Carter.”

“Yes, and I understand they are in a hurry to leave,” said Georgia, smoothing her hand down the front of Ennis’s ruffled shirt, before pushing him away.

“Ennis, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’ve had the ferry summoned and we’ll be leaving soon if you’d care to join me,” said Carter.

“There’s Jack,” said Ennis, noticed him approaching.

“Say goodbye to your friends if you’d like,” said Carter. “We must be going, but you can always visit again. These folks will be your new neighbors, if you choose to settle in Newburyport.”

“Jack,” Ennis caught Jack’s eye and nodded for him to join the discussion. “Mr. Carter is willing to give us a ride to Newburyport. I’d like to take him up on his offer.”

“Very well, Ennis,” said Jack. “Let’s bid goodnight to Master Treadwell and his lovely daughter, first.”

Jack and Ennis located Treadwell and assured him that he would find the horses in good condition after being stabled with Gregory for the evening. They found Georgia and thanked her for her gracious hospitality before rejoining Carter in the foyer.

A servant had thoughtfully provided a lantern for Carter to light their way across the grounds. Jack and Ennis followed Carter through the manor door and out into the courtyard. The rain had stopped and only a remnant of mist hung in the air above the pathway to the stable.

Inside the stable, Jack collected their belongings from Gregory. Ennis shouldered his crate and followed Jack down the puddled road by Carter’s lantern light until they reached the waiting ferryman. The moon had broken through the clouds, illuminating the slow flowing river where the ferryman easily poled them across.

On the other side, they visited the stables and readied the team of horses for their night ride. Carter showed Ennis how he had mounted iron hooks on the front of the cart to carry the lanterns that would light the road they traveled south.

Carter paid the ferryman and climbed into the driver’s seat. Jack and Ennis tumbled into the wagon. They braced themselves for a rough ride, but were surprised when the cart moved so slowly that the bumps in the road were meaningless.

“It won’t be long now,” said Jack, shimmying along the splintered cart bottom to sit next to Ennis.

“Mmm,” Ennis mumbled. He felt Jack’s hand on the back of his neck, the fingers softly pinching the thin hairs that grew there. Ennis let his head roll back onto Jack’s shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.” Ennis fumbled to find Jack’s hand in the dark. He smoothed his thumb along the rough skin and laced their fingers together. “You must be too.”

The creak of the cart wheels pierced the night, their slow rhythm demonstrating the slow pace of their progress.

“Ennis?” Jack whispered.

“Yeah.”

“What happened back there?”

“What?” he squeezed Jack’s hand harder.

“Well, one minute I was dancing with the girl, and the next minute, you looked furious. It worried me.”

“I don’t know. It bothered me to see you with her. It got me thinking of what it would be like when we’re apart. After you go.”

Jack rubbed his knuckles along Ennis’s temple. “Thank goodness no harm was done. I may have to seek out Master Treadwell for employment someday.”

“Sorry,” Ennis sighed. “I don’t know what got into me. Just imagined the two of you together and-”

“No,” said Jack. “It’s not like that. It could never be like that. It’s you I want Ennis, but only if you’ll have me.”

The wheels of the cart grinded to a halt and the men separated. Carter shone a light onto them.

“Well, here we are, boys,” he announced. “K.E. Del Mar’s.”

“Oh, thank you so much,” said Ennis, climbing out of the cart. “He grabbed Jack’s arm, wrist to wrist, and helped him onto his feet before they both jumped down to the road.

“I live just around the corner,” said Carter. “Please be sure to find me if there’s anything I can do for you. Anytime at all.”

Carter shook each man’s hand and the cart lurched forward. Jack and Ennis watched it disappear into the night.

“Come on,” said Ennis, hauling Jack toward the front door.

“Wait, won’t they all be asleep? It must be past midnight,” said Jack.

Ennis traced his fingers along the name carved in the wooden shingle that hung from the doorpost, outlining each of the six letters with his fingernail. He was home.

“Ennis, are you alright?” asked Jack.

As anxious as Ennis was for K.E.’s hospitality, he craved Jack more. He swallowed hard and said, “We could see if the barn is open, and then we could wake them in the morning.”

“It’s your decision, Ennis. You’ve waited a long time for this,” Jack took a step backward.

Ennis didn’t hesitate. He took Jack by the hand and ran to the side of the house, heaved the barn door   
open and shoved Jack inside.


	38. Chapter 38

_Ennis didn’t hesitate. He took Jack by the hand and ran to the side of the house, heaved the barn door open and shoved Jack inside._

His feet slid on the hay-strewn ground. The fresh smell of manure and animal feed filled his nostrils. He closed the door behind him, his hands pushing on the coarse wood until he heard the latch click into place.

Horses nickered from their stalls at the interruption of their sleep.

Ennis turned to see Jack’s shadowy figure against the moonlight that fell through the loft window, casting golden beams onto the bales of hay.

Ennis’s breath caught in his throat when he stepped forward, closing the distance between he and Jack. Eager hands sought Jack’s face in the darkness, fingers finding ears and nose, beard and lips. Ennis felt Jack’s hands hot on his neck, pulling him closer.

“Jack,” Ennis managed to murmur before their mouths met, his tongue tasting the sweet fulfillment that only Jack could give.

The crush of velvet and ruffled linen slid against each other. Ennis worked his hands beneath Jack’s overcoat, fingers skimming his ribs and diving under the heavy fabric to knead the hard muscles of Jack’s back through his shirt.

Ennis’s cock grew hard, heedless of his physical exhaustion. He sucked Jack’s tongue between his lips, enjoying the feel of the tiny circles its tip traced on the roof of his mouth. His hands smoothed down Jack’s back to find his ass. He pulled Jack closer, grinding against him with desire.

Ennis reached a hand to his face where Jack caressed, and let his fingertips work their way over Jack’s hand until he found his wrist. Jack didn’t resist as Ennis tugged the hand from his face and brought it to the hard bulge in his trousers.

“God, what you do to me,” Ennis breathed.

“Let’s see,” said Jack, untying laces, dropping to his knees to yank on the thin braids of floss until they were free, shoving a hand down the front of Ennis’s trousers to wrap his long fingers around the hardness he found.

Ennis gasped at the contact. He tore at his clothing, shrugging off his coat and dragging his palms from the bottom of his shirt up his chest to expose the pale skin of his naked torso, pulling the shirt off and throwing it onto the dirty ground.

His head still fuzzy from the wine, Ennis stumbled backward to the bales, pulling Jack along with him, his hands sliding over the velvet coat and fingers gripping hungrily into Jack’s hard biceps. He landed on his back, half on a bale, his legs buckling under him and feet scrambling for leverage on the dirt floor. A puff of dust exploded from the bale with the impact, sending a cloud of flotsam onto a sea of moonlight.

“Here,” Jack said, throwing a shoulder back to release his arm from its sleeve, first one, then the other.

He rolled onto his side, pulling Ennis toward him before clambering to his knees and spreading the overcoat onto the prickly hay. Jack pushed Ennis back down onto the velvety softness. Ennis pulled Jack back atop him, laughing as he hitched his legs around Jack’s waist and tried to cross his ankles to keep Jack trapped within the circle of his legs. He ground his hips upward, craving the contact of his hard cock against Jack’s.

Jack fell forward, his chest pressing Ennis into the soft bed of hay. Ennis felt Jack’s hands slide along his naked arms to frame his face. Jack licked Ennis’s mouth open, making murmurs and moans escape unchecked from Ennis’s shuddering core.

Ennis hugged Jack close, relishing the weight of the man on him, pinning him in place, trapping him in a prison from which there was no escape, and from which no escape was desired. He kissed Jack until he became breathless, drowning in a sea where only Jack’s sweet breath sustained him. He sailed with the ebb and flow of their passion, until blackness overcame him and the swirling waters threatened to pull him under. Crushed by the weight of the waves of Jack’s unencumbered breathing, he stomped a booted foot to the bale and pushed to roll them onto their sides, gasping for breath.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked, breathing hard.

“Yes,” said Ennis, his chest heaving. “I just lost my breath for a moment.”

Jack propped himself up on one elbow and smoothed a hand over Ennis’s brow.

“Do you want to stop?” Jack nudged Ennis’s nose with his own.

“No,” said Ennis, reaching to pull Jack closer. “I couldn’t breathe. It felt strange, but now the feeling is gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am,” said Ennis. He let his fingers work on Jack’s buttons, forcing each one through its jagged eyehole, exposing the soft fur of Jack’s chest beneath, while Jack placed soft kisses on his mouth.

Ennis kicked off his trousers, losing his boots as he did so, his damp skin glowing in the moonlight. Jack pushed himself up onto his hands and sat upright.

“We left our crate by the door. I’ll run and get what we need,” Jack said.

“No,” said Ennis, circling Jack’s wrist with one hand, his other hand busy with the laces of Jack’s trousers. “Stay with me. We can make do, like we did before.”

Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ennis’s cheek. A horse whinnied from somewhere in the darkness.

Ennis watched as Jack stood to shuck out of his trousers and boots, returning to him in shadow, gloriously naked with a hint of moonglow playing in his dark hair. Ennis’s tongue swept across his lips, his heart pounding when Jack knelt at his side. Using both hands, he found one of Jack’s hands and brought the fingers to his mouth, his eyes roving to Jack’s face while he made his fingers slippery with spit. Ennis felt the fingers of Jack’s other hand buried in his hair, his thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Jack’s mouth hung open with desire, a reassuring moan escaping him. When Ennis was ready, he removed Jack’s fingers from his mouth and let his knees fall open. Jack leaned alongside Ennis’s body, breathing unsteadily. He pressed his lips to Ennis’s, nipping his lower lip with grazing teeth, following with words of encouragement that were more like moans of vowels and whimpers of consonants.

Ennis panted into Jack’s mouth as he felt Jack’s single finger circling, teasing him open before sliding into his sensitive ass. His balls rested on Jack’s palm, his cock leaking copiously in anticipation.

Ennis strained against the feeling for a moment, but relaxed enough to accommodate a second wet digit, bucking against Jack’s fingers as they moved to bump against the delicious spot that made Ennis wordlessly beg for more.

His hands gripped Jack’s shoulders, pulling him down, lost in want. Jack removed his fingers slow and gave Ennis’s hip a push, a little shove that made him twist his waist, throwing his knees sideways, his ass now pushing against Jack’s hard cock, Ennis’s back still flat on the hay bales.

Jack coated himself with spit and dragged his length along the cleft until he was poised at Ennis’s entrance. Jack dug into the hay with one bare foot for leverage and slid in, burying himself to the hilt in Ennis’s silky warmth.

Ennis gave a shuddering moan and gripped Jack’s muscular arms as they now lay chest to chest. He dug his nails into the indented scar, momentarily wondering why the imperfection had always escaped their discussion. The thought was forgotten when Jack pushed against him, rocking slowly, their voices joined in pleasure and pain.

Ennis pressed his fingertips into Jack’s hips as he rode him, his own cock’s tip bouncing off the soft coat that covered the hay, leaking strands of clear slick that expanded and contracted with Jack’s every thrust.

Jack threw his head back, his mouth open. “I can’t hold back any longer,” he cried.

Ennis picked up speed in his movements, while Jack came to a stop, both striving to meet the same goal, one taking up slack where the other faltered. Jack dragged a hand down Ennis’s chest, brushing a finger across an unwary nipple which tightened into a wrinkled nub with the touch.

Ennis shivered and found Jack’s fingers, lacing them with his own. Whatever tomorrow would bring, he knew nothing could compare to this. Nothing he had ever dreamed could come close to the feeling of being claimed, being possessed by this man who knew the desires of his body as well as Ennis knew himself.

Jack freed one hand and raked his fingers through Ennis’s coarse hair to wrap a fist around his cock. He stroked in time to his renewed thrusting, filling Ennis with hot seed as Ennis’s warmth spilled over his hand with the movement.

After a while, Ennis felt his breathing return to normal. He watched Jack, his eyes glistening in the moonlight. Ennis thought there might be tears there, but decided it was only an illusion wrought from the hay dust and their long hours of travel. He stroked Jack’s cheek lazily with the back of his hand.

“You know,” Jack said, pressing his palm earnestly on Ennis’s sweat-tinged chest. “It could be like this.”

Ennis stopped touching. He drew his hand away, holding it mere inches from Jack’s face.

“Just like this,” Jack took Ennis’s hand, pressed a kiss to his palm, and replaced it on his skin. “Always.”

Ennis slid his hand down Jack’s face and let a finger rest on Jack’s lips. “I know,” he said, exhaling a held   
breath. “I just need to figure out how.”

Ennis couldn’t say who fell asleep first, whether Jack closed his eyes, overtaken by exhaustion, or whether Ennis dozed off to dreamland where Jack’s desires could become more than a promise spoken in a dusty barn after a night of passion.

He barely realized that he had slept at all until he stirred awake when the door opened and a triangle of sunlight slid across his weary face.


	39. Chapter 39

_He barely realized that he had slept at all until he stirred awake when the door opened and a triangle of sunlight slid across his weary face._

He squinted into the sudden light, forgetting where he slept, momentarily. Jack lay warm against him, his head resting on Ennis’s shoulder, a hand tangled in his hair. The barn door swung open, creaking on its hinges until it met the wall with a thud.

Feet shuffled across the straw, their owner unaware that anything was out of the ordinary. The horses still awaited turning out and the stalls needed mucking.

Fear jolted through Ennis’s every nerve. He and Jack were naked, although Jack slept unfazed by the commotion. Ennis flinched to reach for some clothing that had been strewn about during their coupling, his hand snaking along their velvet blanket until fingers gripped his linen breeches.

But, his movements were too obvious.

“What in God’s name?” said the stranger who stood in full view. The shadow tines of the pitchfork he carried crept across the dirty floor toward the men.

Jack stirred awake with the sound. He rolled to his back and shielded his eyes from the sun’s morning rays that streamed through the door.

Ennis’s mind raced. He berated himself for not blocking the entrance before they slept. At least that might have bought them time. But they had drunk so much, and were so very tired, neither of them had thought of the consequences. He feared that this careless mistake could be the death of them.

The intruder, a stubby man with a bloated face, shouted, “Jeremy! Come quick!”

“What’s the rush, Davey?” the second man asked, poking his head into the barn.

“Hold it right there, boy,” Davey shouted at Ennis, his menacing pitchfork pointed at the naked men. “Don’t make another move, or I’ll run you through.”

“What the hell are they doing in here… naked?” asked Jeremy, shoving the point of his spade into the ground and resting it against the doorframe.

“Go get K.E.,” Davey snapped. “I’m sure he’ll want to take the first stab at these sinful vagabonds.”

Jeremy turned and ran, his pounding footsteps disappearing on the path to the house.

Jack’s chest skimmed Ennis’ back. They hadn’t moved apart since awakening, their morning-warm skin still touching from head to toe. Ennis glanced over his shoulder. No surprised onlooker could have viewed the scene without realizing what the two of them had been doing in the quiet barn.

“Let us don our clothes,” Jack said, shifting to move away from Ennis.

“No,” Davey snarled. He coughed up a wet hack, congestion rising from his throat. “You stay right where you are. K.E. will want to see what sins you heathens have committed before he decides your punishment. If you move again, I’ll stab your pretty friend first.”

Ennis’s pulse raced as Jack retreated from him further. If only they hadn’t left their provisions outside, they may have been able to defend themselves. Jack had been quick to act when trouble found them before. But here, in the barn, wearing only their skin, Ennis saw little opportunity for escape.

“He won’t allow you to torment us,” said Ennis. He hoped it was true. Perhaps he could convince K.E. to order his henchmen to let him and Jack go. But he secretly feared that K.E. might take sides with the pitchfork-wielding colonist. He worried what would become of him and Jack then.

The scramble of footsteps approached the barn. Ennis watched Jack with sad eyes. He wished they could communicate enough to devise a plan to squirm their way out of this mess.

Jeremy flew through the doorway with K.E. close behind him. Davey’s head spun toward the door.

“Now, what’s this you’ve seen? Men fornicating in my barn? Are you sure you didn’t spend too much time in the tavern last night?” K.E. asked, mindful of his footing on the hay.

Ennis moved instinctively, taking advantage of the distraction to cover himself with the velvet cloak. He sat upright and gathered it into his lap. It was one thing to be exposed in front of the strangers, but to be caught in a compromising position with Jack by his own brother was too much for him to bear.

Jack grasped for his own clothing, shoving his legs into his breeches.

K.E. stopped a few feet from the bales. He looked older than Ennis had remembered. A dozen seasons had passed since the brothers stood on the same ground. Their grandmother’s burial remained a distant memory, and they each had forged new lives for themselves in the world of colonial seaports and trading villages. Ennis felt somewhat pleased that K.E. seemed to have done well, when Ennis only served as a lowly stableboy.

K.E. huffed out a breath, his disgust with the men who had cavorted in his barn could be plainly read on his face.

Ennis mouthed the word, “Brother,” and soft recognition came into K.E.’s eyes.

K.E. took two steps forward. Ennis smiled with relief that K.E. remembered him. His journey to safety had been achieved at last. Perhaps he could muster an excuse for he and Jack to be naked in the barn, and they would both be freed. He was unprepared for the sting of K.E.’s hand that whistled through the air to land with a loud slap on Ennis’s cheek.

Ennis slumped to his side, dragging the velvet fabric with him. His eyes closed and his face burned. He held his palm against his cheek to cool the skin. He was vaguely aware of Jack tending to him, his knees pressed against his back, and Jack’s hand lain upon his arm.

“This is not my brother!” K.E. shouted. “My brother was a God-fearing man, who followed the ways of the Lord and the laws of society.”

“You want us to kill them?” asked Davey, spitting a wad of phlegm onto the hay-covered floor.

“Kill them?” K.E. mused. “That may be too good for them.”

Tears welled in Ennis’s eyes. Everything he and Jack had worked toward had dissolved in a moment. He had escaped judgment in Salem Village, only to face a harsher judge, one whose abandonment hurt worse than death at the hands of the hangman.

“Who is this, who has turned you to the ways of the devil?” K.E. asked.

“I know him,” said Jeremy, stepping closer to have a look at Jack. “He was aboard Reverend Gyllenhaal’s ship that sailed from Britain last Spring. It went down off the coast of Salem, the crew was nearly lost.”

Ennis shuddered dismally. Not only had he been trapped by his brother, but now Jack, too, had been caught.

“No I wasn’t,” shouted Jack, rising to his feet. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

“Oh, no, I’m not,” Jeremy turned to K.E. “You can ask Henry Tillotson. He arrived in Newburyport at the same time I did. He’ll remember because we were on the same ship. This fellow was locked in the brig when we sank. He had stowed away and was trying to pull this same act with us.”

Jeremy stood with his hands on his hips and thrust his hips back and forth to demonstrate the lascivious behavior of which Jack was accused.

“We wouldn’t stand for the likes of him on our ship,” Jeremy continued. “We were set to bring him before the authorities when we reached Salem, but the ship sank and all hands washed ashore on Misery Island. Lucky no one drowned.”

“Is this true?” K.E.’s voice boomed livid. He awaited Ennis’s answer, but none came. Ennis’s chest heaved with shallow breaths. He wished he would wake from this horrible dream.

“It must be true if you have nothing to say,” K.E. paced the floor. “You would give up everything. Every possibility for a life of meaningful labor, for the love of your family, and all things holy, in order to take sides with him?”

Ennis watched K.E. take measured steps. He wished he could see a way for him and Jack to escape their situation. But he wondered at what price an attempt to escape would come.

“Deny any knowledge of him now, and I’ll grant you your life,” said K.E. “My men have already seen you, but they are the only souls to know what happened in this barn. They won’t speak a word of it to anyone if I demand it. Deny that you know this intruder, and you may go free.”

Ennis trembled at K.E.’s words. He weighed the situation. He had only one hope of helping him and Jack. He only prayed that Jack would be able to forgive him.

“I don’t know him!” Ennis shouted. “I’ve never seen him before in my life!” he called, burying his face in his hands.

“Go on, boys,” K.E. said. “You may do whatever you like with him. I have no use for his kind around here.”

The men moved in, each grabbing Jack by an arm.

“An eye for an eye,” muttered Jeremy, dragging him across the dirty floor.

Jack’s feet protested against the hay in a struggle against his captors. They didn’t permit Jack one last glance at Ennis, sitting sullen on the bales. But Ennis’s eyes met Jack’s anyway. Their blue was on fire and Jack’s lips were curled into a snarl. “Damn you, Ennis!” he shouted.

Ennis pleaded with his eyes, but Jack looked gutted.

“I loved you!” Jack screamed when the men reached the barn door and dragged him outside.

It was too much. Ennis flew off the bales and pummeled K.E. with determined fists. Such was Ennis’s rage, that he gained an advantage, despite his nakedness. He never saw K.E.’s wife, Rufina, her red hair flowing, undone at this early morning hour, a nightdress covering her from throat to feet. She hefted the first object onto which she laid her hands, a spade left propped against the door. Coming to her husband’s defense, she raised it into the air and swung it hard against Ennis’s skull.

Ennis heard the crack and saw the lightning, but then there was only blackness.


	40. Chapter 40

_Ennis heard the crack and saw the lightning, but then there was only blackness._

He never saw the terror in K.E.’s eyes when he watched his brother collapse to the floor, never felt Rufina rush to his side to staunch the flow of blood with a sleeve of her nightgown, never heard Jack’s shouts of scorn as the men dragged him away.

Four days later, Ennis still hadn’t stirred from the Del Mar bed where he lay, carried there like a limp sack of potatoes by his brother. Rufina had demanded he be brought there to rest in comfort. Guilt-stricken, no doubt, the least she could do was provide a soft place for her unintended victim to lay. She ministered to Ennis’s head hourly, changing the bandages and sopping up the ooze with clean linen.

K.E. had called for the physician, but he didn’t offer much encouragement. He stooped to clean the gash at the back of Ennis’s head. It would do no good to apply a poultice to the jagged seam. He pinched the edges together and exhaled an unsteady breath, advising Rufina to keep the wound clean, and offering prayers for Ennis to regain consciousness.

Visitors arrived and spent time at his bedside, although they didn’t know Ennis, except from K.E.’s childhood reminiscing. They simply were amused by the tale of how poor Rufina came upon a naked man attacking her husband in the barn, and how she rose to his defense by taking aim with a spade, only to learn later that it was her very own brother-in-law that she had struck down.

Ennis heard their voices in the room, but he couldn’t identify who spoke. Their words hummed together, sometimes meaninglessly, like the rumble of distant thunder that faded when the sky cleared. His eyes remained closed for the span of days. Only his chest rose and fell, his heart beating in its unstoppable rhythm. The blood seeped from his head, the crimson stain on his pillow serving as another indicator of his life not yet snuffed out.

He spent his hours in vague awareness, listening to Rufina as she told her guests of her embarrassment. She declared herself committed to the task of a caretaker, as long as her patient still breathed. She didn’t hide her worry that the movement of Ennis’s chest might soon stop, relieving her of the additional burden that imposed itself upon her busy days.

When Ennis’s body slept, he had no such distractions to occupy his thoughts. For long hours of each day, he wandered the endless roads of his mind, lost beneath an inky sky. The muffled trickling of the river at his side reminded him that his course was set, despite his inability to understand where his purpose led. He followed the path of deepening dirt, loose around his ankles, guided by only a faint glow of obscure moonlight.

Ahead, a distant shadow that drew his focus loomed gray on the horizon. Ennis trudged with his head hung low, watching each step of his painfully slow boots, skimming the dusty ground, searching for a foothold. He launched himself forward with the pace of the tides, raising his chin for a glimpse of his objective. But the shadow figure always evaded Ennis’s reach, fading into the blackness just as Ennis approached.

His lips moved to call the figure, but no noise escaped his mouth.

The shadow faded around the next bend in the road and the next, the sea of clouded trees flowing past Ennis as he continued his pursuit. A scream formed in Ennis’s throat that left him drained and panting without success at drawing the man’s attention each time he seemed to get closer.

He plodded forward for a few more steps, his shoulders sinking in despair. He let his gaze trace the road again and he strained to put sound to his speech.

“Jack…” he finally sputtered out, the effort making the spit drool down his chin.

The word stopped inches from his lips, as if the breath Ennis could muster was not powerful enough to send the word any further along toward its destination.

Yet, Jack must have heard Ennis’s voice. He stopped and turned, still too distant for him to catch up.

“Why bother to follow me?” shouted Jack, his lips curled into a sarcastic sneer.

Despite the distance, Jack’s voice came like a whisper in Ennis’s ear.

“You’ve made your decision,” Jack continued, blue eyes mocking Ennis for his change of heart.

Ennis glanced at Jack, raising his eyes from his inadequate feet, to call his name again, before the dawning of understanding refreshed in his memory.

But Jack vanished into the swirling night, where Ennis could chase the specter for as far as his leaden feet would allow him to follow, never to reach the figure of the man that he remembered he loved.

“No!” Ennis called, using all his strength to force the word out.

His tongue stabbed between his dry lips, and Rufina dabbed a moist cloth to the flaking skin. No one could have looked more surprised than she, when in the sunny afternoon of the fourth day since she struck him, Ennis’s eyes opened and sounds came from his mouth.

“Nnn…” he tried to speak, the only sound he could make against the cloth.

“Easy, Ennis,” she said when his hands frantically gripped her wrists, his mouth contorting to suck the liquid from the fabric.

She turned to dip the rag into the basin for more water and pressed the cloth to his face. He clawed his fingers into the rag, wringing it out into his parched mouth.

“J-J-Jack?” he cried, a gurgled sound, more animal than human, emitting from his throat.

“There, there,” Rufina said, patting his arm. 

“W-Where’s Jack?” Ennis asked, his pleading fingers digging into the sleeve of Rufina’s dress.

“It was a horrible accident, Ennis. I’m afraid that I am completely at fault.”

Ennis raised his head off the pillow, the splitting pain making him squeeze his eyes closed.

“You must lie still,” Rufina said, standing to pour a cup of water from the pitcher. “I am to blame. I didn’t know you came to visit Newburyport.”

“What happened?” asked Ennis steadying the cup as it met his lips, his eyes drifting shut as he drank his fill.

“When I heard the commotion and saw you in the barn, I could think of nothing else but to save K.E. You looked like a madman,” said Rufina, twirling a long red lock of her hair between her fingers. “I grabbed the first thing I could find, and beat you over the head with a spade. I never would have-”

“But where’s Jack?” Ennis begged, his voice a whisper.

Rufina sat by his side on the bed, her brown eyes softly scanning Ennis’s features while he drank. “Does it hurt badly?”

Ennis’s eyes flew open. “Of course it hurts badly! You hit me over the head with a spade. But, I need to find Jack.”

“You’re injured, Ennis. You shouldn’t be out of bed,” pleaded Rufina.

Ennis slammed the cup onto the table. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and clutched his head with both hands. “I need to find him,” he moaned, realizing he was dressed in only a nightshirt. “Where are my clothes?”

“Calm down,” said Rufina. “I’m going to call for K.E. He’ll put a stop to this nonsense.”

Ennis barely noticed she left. He stepped onto the wooden floor and discovered his and Jack’s crate of clothing. It had been brought inside, along with his boots and costume from the barn. He sifted through the articles and located a pair of trousers and a clean linen shirt. There was no time to fuss over what clothing to wear, as he and Jack had done in the past. He hastily dressed, not bothering to tuck the shirt into the trousers. Despite the ache in his head, he had to find Jack. He had to tell him that he would stay with him, no matter what the consequences.

He stamped his feet into his boots when K.E. flew through the doorway.

“Ennis, it’s true? You’re awake?” he said, stopping in his tracks.

“I am. More awake than I’ve ever been. Now stand out of my way,” said Ennis, holding onto the side of the bed, trying to remain steady.

“I won’t do that,” said K.E., stepping forward, his face mere inches from Ennis’s. “Rufina tells me you’re going to look for the man that you were found lying with in my barn.”

Ennis stood his ground. His head throbbed, but he thought clearly. “I’m going to look for Jack.”

“I thought we had this settled,” said K.E. “You can stay here in Newburyport as long as you like. You can live here, work here, marry here. Forget him! Brother, you must listen to good sense.”

“I love him,” Ennis said, pushing forward. “But I don’t expect you to understand that.”

“What is there to understand? That you lust for a man?” shouted K.E. “You’ll ruin what remains of your reputation with your evil ways.”

“I need to find where those men have taken him,” said Ennis calmly. “Can you live with yourself when you are responsible for whatever they’ve done to him?”

“Me? You question my integrity? Here, I thought you were an ordinary stableboy in Salem, but do you know what the townspeople are saying about you, Ennis?”

“I don’t much care. I need to find Jack,” Ennis pushed past K.E. and headed toward the door.

“A witchcraft accusation?”

Ennis stopped at the entryway.

“I was willing to overlook a witchcraft accusation. Put great risk to my family to have you live in the safety of my house. And this is the thanks I get from you?”

“You don’t understand,” said Ennis. “I don’t think you ever will.”

“Understand this,” said K.E. “If you walk out that door, you will not be welcome in this house again.”

But Ennis barely heard the last of it. He had slammed the door behind him and stumbled onto the road in search of Jack.


	41. Chapter 41

_“Understand this,” said K.E. “If you walk out that door, you will not be welcome in this house again.”_

_But Ennis barely heard the last of it. He had slammed the door behind him and stumbled onto the road in search of Jack._

Outside, the afternoon sun had begun to sink behind the homes on the opposite side of the road. They cast a cool shadow onto the dirt treadway, packed hard from the carter’s wheels and hooves of settler’s horses. Ennis inhaled the fresh air, his lungs thankful that he had escaped the stuffy room where he had lain in his own despair for far too long while his body healed.

His legs felt stiff and his knees bent with some difficulty. He reckoned that he hadn’t eaten a meal since the night at Treadwell’s party, unless he counted the drops of water he had sucked from Rufina’s rag like a newborn pup that had lost its mother and needed assistance to thrive.

He was grateful for Rufina’s nurturing, but nothing could assuage his grief over the realization that he did not have his brother’s support. He’d have to find Jack on his own. And more importantly, he would have to convince Jack of his own faith in him… his faith in them. Only then would they be able to face the world together without the help of Ennis’s brother and his family. But Ennis wondered how he could convince Jack of his commitment, when he had little hope of finding him alive.

Ennis clung to the fence that bordered the road separating the houses from the long route that ran from the Piscataqua in the north all the way to Boston, some thirty miles to the south. For so long, he had dreamed of arriving in this coastal village of peaceful townspeople, family, and neighbors. He should have guessed that K.E. might shun him. But for so many weeks, finding refuge at K.E.’s seemed to be the only solution. He was so certain that K.E. would be the answer to his prayers that no other alternative had been considered.

Jack would have thought of something by now, Ennis mused, stopping at the edge of his brother’s property to catch his breath. He was sure of it. Jack was clever, where Ennis was impulsive. If Jack were here, he would have devised a plan already, and they’d be on their way to freedom. But Ennis’s last recollection of Jack was the one of him being dragged off by K.E.’s henchmen, Jack’s eyes in wide disbelief of Ennis’s betrayal. Ennis needed to find Jack before it was too late to convince him that his denial was a misjudged part of a plan he conceived in desperation.

The ache in Ennis’s head had faded to a dull throb, becoming more manageable than when he engaged in the verbal sparring with his brother. His gaze meandered up and down the street, looking for the familiar glint of blue in a stranger’s eyes, but he saw nothing that reminded him of Jack. He walked a bit more steadily, gaining his bearings from his position on the road, heading for the center of the village.

Townspeople spilled into the square on their way home from a busy day on the docks or in the counting house where they tallied the day’s intake of goods from the Caribbean. Ennis inhaled the scent of spices that wafted from the smokehouse, carried to the colonies by the summer breeze against the merchant’s sails. He reminisced that all the riches of the tropics could never compare to the warm vanilla of Jack’s skin under the summer sun, or the sugar cane sweetness of his lips as they parted beneath Ennis’s own mouth.

Jack’s chances of sailing the seas were slim now, Ennis lamented. K.E. would do what he could to prevent Jack from being hired anywhere, competency or not. Ennis had not only destroyed his own future, but he destroyed Jack’s as well. Ennis felt miserable that this whole ordeal was entirely his fault. If only he hadn’t been so convinced that they should travel to K.E.’s., maybe they’d still be with the Indians, or roaming westward to eke out their fortunes in the New World together.

Ennis hung his head low. The ramifications of his denial tore through his mind, making the split in his skull sear with pain. Alone, he trudged onward, silently begging the assistance of a nameless God to let him find Jack. By the time he reached the public house, where he guessed he might find some information about K.E.’s workers and what they may have done with Jack, he was pleading for any deity’s intervention to keep Jack by his side. Without Jack, Ennis realized that he had nobody. He’d do anything, he promised, to not be so alone, anything for the pain of his loneliness to end.

He stopped outside and listened to the voices that emerged through the windows, the loud banter of jovial discussion. His hand searched his pocket, feeling for his and Jack’s guineas, grateful that he had stowed them there when he left K.E.’s house in haste. It took a good deal of strength for him to climb the three steps to the door. He paused like an old man on the landing, his fingers splayed on the handle for a moment, taking inventory of the pain in his head and the tiredness in his bones.

Inside, he sank into a seat near the doorway, opting to travel the shortest distance possible.

“What’s ailing you, love?” the barmaid asked, raising her voice over the evening crowd and setting a tankard of ale in front of Ennis. “You look like you’ve lost your best friend.”

Ennis looked up and gave her a faint smile. She stood nearly as tall as a man. Dark brown curls that glimmered red in the sunlight spilled over her shoulders. Her nose was hooked at the end, but she bore a pleasant smile.

“Probably because I have,” answered Ennis, sipping the ale, not sure whether he spoke loud enough to be heard.

“Sorry to hear that, love. What else can I get for you? A little food in your belly might make you feel better,” she said, rubbing a hand over her swollen abdomen. “We have a lovely oyster stew today, or perhaps you’re more of a roasted quail man?”

“Neither, really,” said Ennis. He ducked his head and lowered his voice so only she could hear. “I’m looking for some information.”

“I know you,” the barmaid said, stepping back. “You’re K.E. Del Mar’s brother ain’t you?”

“Uh, yes,” Ennis said in a shaky voice. “But how do you know?”

“Why, everyone in town has heard that Rufina whacked you over the head.”

“Cassandra!” the barkeep hollered across the crowd to Ennis’s table.

“Hold your horses, Pa!” she shouted back, before returning to Ennis with a whisper, “Don’t mind him. He doesn’t like to see me talking to the patrons since… well… you know…” she said, eyeing her belly, where an impending birth was only a couple months away.

“News travels fast in a small town, I suppose,” said Ennis.

“That, it does. My Pa likes to keep me in his sights. He’s been telling folks that my husband was lost at sea. But, say, that is an awful looking gash you’ve got there,” Cassandra said, eyeing the back of Ennis’s head. “I heard you weren’t expected to live.”

“Well, here I am,” said Ennis. “Although I’m not too excited to be living right now.”

“Tell you what,” said Cassandra, “I’m going to the kitchen and I’ll fix you the best bowl of oyster stew that I can muster. Then you can tell me all about it.”

Ennis felt the pang of hunger in his belly and decided that maybe it would be worth his while to talk to Cassandra. Maybe she saw something that would help him find Jack.

“That would be wonderful,” Ennis said. “I could use a friend.”

“You’re cute like you’re brother,” winked Cassandra. “Even with that gash in your head.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Ennis alone to listen to the buzz of conversation as the townspeople spent their money on food and drink. Their liveliness made Ennis feel sick to his stomach. He wished he had eaten something already, so he had some strength. He wished he was powerful enough to question every man there about what became of Jack no matter how worried he was about their answers.

Cassandra returned with a bowl of oyster stew, of which Ennis gratefully slurped a tentative spoonful into his mouth.

“Look,” he said, between bites, “You seem to be a girl who keeps her eyes on the happenings in Newburyport. You haven’t heard anything about K.E.’s workers, Jeremy and Davey, roughing up a fellow, a newcomer to town, have you?”

“I’m not sure. Those two always seem to be in trouble when they stay out too late. What’s this newcomer like?”

“Jack Twist,” Ennis said. “I traveled here with him and I have the feeling K.E.’s workmen took matters into their own hands when they showed him the way out of town.”

“Come to think of it, they were in here this morning,” Cassandra said.

“Jack?” Ennis gasped.

“No, Davey and Jeremy. They were drinking here. It was barely noontime.”

“Were they alone?”

“Yes, but they were talking about something… I’m trying to remember.”

“Think, Cassandra.”

“Something about the Bonny Read.”

“What’s that?”

“That’s the old pirate ship that ran aground off Plum Island. It’s an old wreck, has been there for a few months now, rising and falling on the tides. The stolen cargo was offloaded and the pirates were all prosecuted and hung, poor things.”

“Thank you Cassandra, you have no idea how much this means to me.” Ennis rose from his seat and handed her a guinea.

“But you’re leaving already?”

“One more favor,” said Ennis. “Can you tell me where Daniel the carter lives? I know his home is nearby.”

“I can do better than that,” said Cassandra smugly. “He’s dining in the very next room.”


	42. Chapter 42

_“Can you tell me where Daniel the carter lives? I know his home is nearby.”_

_“I can do better than that,” said Cassandra smugly. “He’s dining in the very next room.”_

“Cassandra,” Ennis clasped his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. He couldn’t believe his good fortune at finding Carter so quickly. “Can you take me to him?”

“You’re in no shape to be traveling, even if it is just across this floor,” Cassandra said, resting her wet rag on the tabletop.

“He may be the only person who can help me find Jack,” Ennis said, his forehead creased with worry. “He knows this town and its people. If Jack has been taken somewhere, he might know where. Please.”

Cassandra stole a glance at her Pa. Ennis watched the innkeeper roll an empty barrel out of the way, making room for a replacement, carried by a burly stockboy.

“Come on,” Cassandra said. “You can lean on me. I’ll bring your ale and stew. I’m not letting you leave until you’ve finished. You need to get your strength back.”

Ennis took Cassandra’s arm. She led him through the din of the room where more men had gathered for an evening meal shared in company. The smell of smoke and fish and ale hung in the air like a mist over a sleepy meadow, but whereas the morning mist welcomed a new day for Jack and Ennis in their travels, the thick shroud of burned tobacco foretold only the encroaching darkness of night.

Ennis watched his feet move across the filthy floor, careful not to trip while Cassandra led him through the crowd of longshoremen and merchants, ship builders and architects. His thumb pinned Cassandra’s long curls against her sleeve and she bent her neck to free the stray locks, her brows pinched in annoyance. Ennis shifted his eyes back to the floor, gripping her arm again firmly, grateful for her kindness.

“Master Carter,” Cassandra said. “You can’t be leaving already?”

Ennis raised his head, concerned with Cassandra’s words.

“No, you can’t leave now,” Ennis interrupted, when he noticed Carter rising from the table. “I need to speak with you.”

“Ennis?” Carter said, with surprised recognition in his eyes. “What brings you here? I’ve heard about your accident, but I only returned to Newburyport last evening. I meant to pay you a visit. How are you?”

Ennis wobbled in his stance and Cassandra dropped the bowl and tankard to the table. She shoved Ennis into Carter’s vacant chair, smoothing her hands over Ennis’s shoulders.

“He needs your help,” said Cassandra. “He’s a bit woozy. I’ll fetch another round of ale while you speak with him.”

“Very well,” said Carter. He pulled another chair to the table, pausing to listen to the words whispered into his ear by a drunken patron before sitting across from Ennis. “I remember we had a grand time at Treadwell’s. What’s new since then?”

“It’s Jack,” said Ennis, barely speaking above the noisy revelers.

“What?” Daniel asked, looking around. “Where is he?”

“They took him away. I need to find him.”

“Who took him? I heard you were struck in the head by your brother’s wife… accidentally, of course,” Carter said. He tapped his fingers on the nicked and stained table. “I’m sorry, but I haven’t heard anything about Jack. How does your head feel?”

“I’ll recover. But Jack was dragged away by two men- K.E.’s hired hands, Jeremy and Davey.”

“Ahh, I know of them,” said Carter, lowering his voice. “They’re a rough lot. Won’t K.E. help you?”  
Carter’s words made Ennis’s head ache.

“No... Cassandra told me that she saw his men here earlier today. Jack wasn’t with them. I think they’ve done something terrible. Maybe they’ve hurt him, or they’ve locked him somewhere. Maybe they’ve killed him…. or maybe they’ve only run him off,” Ennis said.

“I saw them this morning, both of them. It was early.”

“Jeremy and Davey?”

“Yes. I’d arrived home late from Boston and I couldn’t sleep. Too much travel. Too many nights spent away from home. I’m getting to be an old man. Finally, I gave up trying. I walked to the waterfront and when dawn broke, I saw Jeremy and Davey rowing a boat ashore. They’d come from the direction of Plum Island.”

“Plum Island? Is that where the pirate wreck is trapped?”

“The Bonny Read? What of it?”

Cassandra dropped two tankards of ale on the table. She shot Ennis an admonishing look and he knowingly raised a spoonful of stew to his lips. Ennis nodded in thanks to her before she turned away to tend to other diners.

“Cassandra told me that Jeremy and Davey were laughing and boasting about the Bonny Read while they were drinking here today.”

“And you think there’s a connection between that ship and Jack’s disappearance?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Ennis.

“We’d better hurry then,” said Carter, pushing his chair out from the table. “It will be dark soon.”

Carter helped Ennis to his feet and the men made the slow journey across the floor to the doorway. Ennis fought his way through the jabbing elbows and friendly cheers that threatened to distract him from his purpose. He tried to ignore the pain in his head and the dizziness it caused him. He tried to be strong, knowing Jack would do the same for him. He hoped so, anyway.

He worried that even if he found Jack, he would be too late to repair the damage that Jeremy and Davey might have inflicted on him during the past four days. He whispered aloud his wishes for Carter’s competence and for Jack’s safety.

Outside, the sun had fallen further in the western sky. The men walked the few blocks to the waterfront. The street lay empty at this time of day, with everyone home enjoying their families or drinking in the public house.

“Wait here, Carter said, helping to lower Ennis to a slab of granite that formed the front step of a spacious home.

Ennis complied, and sat down on the cool stone, a solid and familiar comfort that reminded him of his landlord’s house back in Salem. 

Carter disappeared into the barn. Ennis thrust his thumbnail into his mouth, gnawing on the ragged edge while he waited. He had barely begun to shape the surface into smoothness when Carter emerged with a lantern in hand.

“Come on,” said Carter. “We’ll need this if the sun sets before we make it back to shore.”

Ennis rose to his feet, grateful for Carter’s swiftness in preparing to leave. The men walked the remaining distance that separated Carter’s house from his dock, a few hundred feet away.

“Thank you for helping me,” Ennis said, taking Carter’s arm for support.

“Well, I did say to find me if you ever needed anything,” Carter said.

“People say that often,” said Ennis. “But they rarely mean it. I’m grateful that you’re true to your word.”

At the dock, a rowboat bobbed up and down, riding the waves of the incoming tide. The rope stretched tight from its nose to the platform. Carter set the lantern down on the rough wood and tugged the rope with both hands, until the boat slid parallel with the dock.

“Climb aboard,” said Carter. He held the tiny boat still while Ennis placed the lantern on the sun-bleached deck. When the waves lulled quiet for a moment and the boat seemed steady, Ennis climbed in and sat on the flat wooden seat.

Carter stepped into the boat, tossing the worn tether rope in ahead of him. He gave the dock a mighty shove and the boat moved away from the dock. Carter sat and took the oars in his hands, dipping the paddles into the water.

Clouds streaked across the sky above Plum Island where the hulk of the partially capsized pirate ship listed in the surf, carried on the whim of the tides. Carter paddled with the setting sun in his eyes while Ennis faced forward, watching the abandoned vessel rise on the horizon.

Their boat skimmed across the water, the waves rolling taller with more distance between each. Ennis watched as the Bonny Read grew larger in his eyes. The abandoned ship lay nearly on its side, the hull embedded deep in the Plum Island sand below the water’s surface.

I suspect they’ll salvage the wood from it one day,” said Carter, glancing over his shoulder to gauge the distance. “Already got the valuables.”

Ennis grunted a meager acknowledgement. He only hoped that Jack would someday take him back into his arms. Wished Jack would hold his hand, soothing his fears and reassuring him that everything would be right between them again. “I’m just worried about Jack. I hope the wreck might give us some clues about what K.E.’s men have done to him.”

Carter stopped rowing. The only sound was the lap of the waves against the bow and the groan of creaking pirate wood as it fought the tide.

“Ennis,” said Carter. “I’m worried for you. The word of your witchcraft accusation has reached Newburyport. I was informed of it when you arrived at my table tonight.”

Ennis’s shoulders sank and he let out a long breath.

“I’m willing to help you, I don’t believe in any of that Salem hysteria,” continued Carter. “But, I fear that K.E.’s refusal to help you will encourage the townspeople to think the accusation is true. There’s only so much I can do to fight the rumors of the ignorant.”

“I’ll leave,” said Ennis. “I’ll seek my fortune somewhere else. But I’m not leaving here until I find out what has become of Jack.”

Carter nodded, his lips thin in understanding.

The rowboat rose and sank into the swelling pull of the Bonny Read.

“We’re too close,” shouted Ennis over the sound of the waves. “We’ll be capsized if we stay here long.”

“I’ll go aboard and see what I can find,” said Carter. He stood and handed the oars to Ennis. “You keep her steady.”

“No,” said Ennis, handing them back. “You are a better oarsman. I’ll go.”


	43. Chapter 43

_“We’re too close,” shouted Ennis over the sound of the waves. “We’ll be capsized if we stay here long.”_

_“I’ll go aboard and see what I can find,” said Carter. He stood and handed the oars to Ennis. “You keep her steady.”_

_“No,” said Ennis, handing them back. “You are a better oarsman. I’ll go.”_

Carter sighed in agreement, moving the oars back into position. “I shouldn’t let you do this,” he said. “You’re not well.”

“I have no choice,” Ennis replied. “The tide will be in soon, and the hull will be filled with water. If we’re going to find out what those two were ranting about, we can’t delay searching the ship.”

Ennis tentatively made his way to the bow, taking time to gain his balance before switching places with Carter. When Carter had control of the rowboat, Ennis shucked his shirt and knelt on Carter’s seat plank, hands perched on the gunwale. He closed his eyes against the spray of salt water that rushed against the tiny boat. Taking a deep breath, he assessed the pain in his head and decided to ignore it as best he could. Jack was alive somewhere, he was sure of it. Ennis needed to muster all his strength in order to put this first task to rest so he could search for Jack on dry land in Newburyport.

He watched the incoming waves slide across the Bonny Read’s deck. The top rail had dwelled below the ocean’s surface for some time now. It lay beneath the water, trapped in the sand on which the once mighty ship had run aground. The barren top deck loomed nearly vertical above Ennis’s head, the hatch door clacking open and shut with each incoming wave, a tangle of ropes spiderwebbed across the rotting wood.

Months had passed since the Jolly Roger had flown from the ship’s tall mast. The hardy pine had broken free and washed ashore long before Ennis stood in the stocks on Derby Street, accused of a crime he knew nothing about, except to fear its subsequent punishment.

The thought of being sentenced to a torturous death almost amused Ennis now, kneeling aboard the bobbing rowboat, his brow furrowed in concentration. Death was a torture he’d rather face, than to not know what became of the man he loved.

He saw his chance in the lulling waves. Without a warning to Carter, Ennis leaped from his perch. His hands, cold with sea water, scrambled for the lattice of weathered rigging and found their purchase.

Ennis’s chest heaved with reassured confidence that he had a secure position on the ship.

“Give me the lantern,” he yelled to Carter, who grinned cautiously from the rowboat. Ennis watched Carter strike the flint and light the wick, the lantern glowing brighter than the setting sun that peeked between the homes on the shore’s horizon.

Jack could be in one of those buildings, Ennis thought. I’ll search each one until I find him. And if I find Jeremy and Davey first, I’ll make them tell me what they’ve done with him if it’s the last thing I do. He swallowed hard when he remembered the slide of their profane hands against Jack’s skin when they dragged him from K.E.’s barn and the way they spoke Jack’s name with none of the reverence that emerged from Ennis’s lips when they lay together beneath their oilcloth.

“Here, take it,” said Carter, stretching from the rowboat’s bow to pass the lantern into Ennis’s shivering hand.

“Got it,” Ennis said.

And Jack’s eyes, Ennis thought when claimed the lamp, grateful that Carter had the sense to bring it along. There was no love in Jack’s eyes when he had spoken the word. Only fear.

Ennis found an awkward balance on the wrecked ship that shifted precariously with each wave. The sea spray soaked his clothing, numbing his hands as they groped their way up the battered rigging toward the open hatch.

He knew the fear that Jack had felt. Not a fear for his safety, or a fear of what harm the ruffians might do to him. That type of fear could easily be battled. But inching closer to the only entrance into the ship’s hull that hovered above the water’s surface, Ennis recognized in his own heart, the same fear that Jack suffered. It was the fear of facing an uncertain future, where all his former plans became a heap of twisted wreckage that no amount of energy or effort could sort out. Everything he had hoped for, every dream he dared imagine, was no more certain to come true than if this pirate ship righted itself and sailed away with them to the sunny Caribbean.

Ennis destroyed Jack’s hopes when he refuted him with a hurried word, spoken in panic. He had no right to crush Jack’s hope. And now his own hopes were dashed too. He sleepwalked through a world of sadness with only his dreams to blame for his sorrow. If he hadn’t dreamed of their future together, there would be no sadness for Ennis now. Perhaps it was best if he never dreamed again at all.

A horrible memory invaded Ennis’s mind when he reached the hatch. He propped the door open, tucking the splintered wood beneath a waterlogged rope that crisscrossed the deck. What was it that the men had said? “An eye for an eye,” Ennis mumbled aloud.

He looked toward the sun and saw Carter holding the rowboat steady against the tide, some fifty feet away. Ennis waved to him, as much for his own assurance as to caution Carter that Ennis intended to explore the ship’s cavity.

He hooked the lantern to the hatch frame and listened to the splash of water churning below, the hull full of seawater. He remembered the story Jack had told him after they fled Salem- the story of how he was discovered as a stowaway on a ship and freed himself by sinking the vessel. All hands went overboard and were thought to be lost at sea. Jeremy knew this. He admitted being on the ship when they were in K.E.’s barn. Ennis wondered if he had somehow planned to drown Jack in the same way as a fitting punishment.

Ennis peered into the hold of the Bonny Read. His lantern light glinted off the water below him. Flotsam hung onto the surface, moving with the incoming tide. The ship’s timber creaked and groaned with every shift of the waves. The ship had been gutted and all its valuables carried ashore and sold by the salvager. Only the innards remained now, left to die on the whims of the tides.

Ennis squinted, trying to ensure that there was nothing of value to see in the darkness. He had already convinced himself that the trip to the grounded ship wasn’t a waste of time, since they had to look for evidence left by Jeremy and Davey anyway, when he saw a movement in the water. He stopped his planned retreat to have a second look.

Barely visible, just above the water’s surface, something that was neither a part of the ship, nor floating debris, moved again. Ennis’s jaw fell open when he realized he was looking at Jack’s face turning toward him from just above the briny surface.

“Jack,” Ennis gasped, and without a second thought, he let himself drop through the open hatch, plunging into the dark water below with a loud splash.

“Jack,” he yelled when his head broke the surface. He fought to gain his balance on the uneven beams, his feet slipping on the slime that had seen no light in months.

The icy water chilled him to the bone and he realized that if he were cold, Jack was likely colder from being captive here for an undetermined number of hours, or days. Hours, thought Ennis, only hours. Jack would be dead if he were here for days. K.E.’s men must have brought Jack here only this morning when Carter saw Jeremy and Davey rowing ashore.

Ennis trudged his way through the swirling water, his target illuminated by the faint lantern light from above.

Jack’s head lolled from side to side and for one terrible instant, Ennis thought he might be dead, his movements simply caused by the shifting waves that coursed through the ship.

“Jack,” Ennis pushed his way through the mire, taking Jack’s head in his hands and holding it above the surface of the water.

“Ennis?” Jack said, his voice a chortled gasp.

“I’m here. I’m going to get you out of this mess,” Ennis said, his hands diving underwater to run over the ropes that held Jack securely to the ship’s bottom.

“Why bother?” Jack said, spewing the sea water from his mouth when he spoke.

Ennis felt his way down Jack’s arms to his waist, yanking on the bindings, trying to understand how the ropes were knotted. The men must have bound him here when the tide was low, but now the water covered all of Jack, except his head, and even that would be covered soon, if Ennis didn’t hurry.

“No, don’t say that,” Ennis said, remembering the last betraying words he spoke to Jack. He stopped his search for loosened ropes, realizing that there was a strong possibility that he might not free Jack before he drowned.

If there was nothing else that Ennis ever did in his life, he could not let Jack go to his grave without telling him the truth. He held Jack’s head above the water and spoke soft against his lips.

“I love you,” he said, breathing warm breath into Jack’s mouth.

Jack’s eyes flickered shut and he shivered hard.

Ennis pressed his forehead to Jack’s. “I love you, and I’m going to get you out of here. Know that, if you know nothing else.”

And with that truth spoken, Ennis continued to work on the ropes, his mind at peace with the knowledge that Jack knew he loved him. That would have to be enough for Ennis, if he was forced to let Jack go to his death beneath the waves.


	44. Chapter 44

_“I love you, and I’m going to get you out of here. Know that, if you know nothing else.”_

_And with that truth spoken, Ennis continued his attempt to free Jack, his mind at peace with the knowledge that Jack knew he loved him. It would be enough for Ennis, if he had to let Jack go to his death._

It had to be.

He stroked Jack’s cheek with the knuckles of a cold wet hand. Their eyes met for an instant in the dim lanternglow before Ennis’s palms slid back underwater, caressing the ropes, searching for a loosened coil.

Along every route, Ennis found the ropes locked in a knotted maze, the key to which he could not discover. He bit down on his tongue in concentration. The incoming tide rippled through the ship, the water level increasing with each breath Ennis took. Every time he tugged at the braided cords, they seemed to tighten around Jack’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides.

“They sure tied you up good,” muttered Ennis, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, despite the chilly environs of the abandoned hull.

Waves undulated through the wreckage, splashing Ennis’s mouth with salty tang. His trousers weighed heavy on his thighs.

Jack slumped forward, his chin and nose dipping into the black surf.

“Jack,” Ennis said, lifting Jack’s heavy head from the water with both hands, droplets falling from Jack’s nose sending expanding circles across the smooth tide. “Stay with me.”

“It’s alright,” whispered Jack, blinking his eyes shut.

“Jack?”

“You can go,” he said, eyes downcast. “You can leave me here. It’s alright.”

The groan of deteriorating timber moaned above the waves.

“I’m not leaving,” Ennis said, resuming his search for the key to Jack’s freedom.

“You’ll drown if you stay here to help me,” Jack spoke in a shivered whisper. “I don’t deserve you, Ennis. I never did.”

Ennis’s head pounded, the wound searing with pain.

“No,” Ennis said, running a hand through Jack’s damp hair and dropping a chaste kiss on his purpled lips. “You deserve a lover who thought to bring a knife when coming to help you.”

Ennis bunched his eyebrows and plunged his hands back into the water to work on the ropes.

“My Ennis,” Jack said soft, before his face sunk into the waves again, only to emerge just as quickly. “I’ll never deserve a sweet life with you. It’s time for me to pay for my sin.”

A swelling wave shuddered through the hull, the depth of the ocean covering both men completely.

The submergence only lasted for a moment until the wave receded. Ennis exhaled his held breath, thinking perhaps Jack was right about one important thing. They wouldn’t be able to escape together. Either Ennis needed to let Jack be. Let him die. Or they would both be drowned by the tide.

For one small instant, floating on the swell of an incoming wave, Ennis considered himself fortunate to have seen Jack again at all, to have kissed him one last time, eyes full of sorrow. Yes, Ennis was thankful for the privilege. The memory of accompanying Jack in his dying hour would be enough to comfort him through the lonely days of his lifetime that lay ahead. These moments together would have to suffice for all that was lost.

He wondered how long he needed to wait before leaving Jack alone to face his death. He wished they could share a warm bed after a long day of play in the meadows, but now it could never be. Sharing Jack’s final sacred moments became his only hope.

Waves crashed through the ship, the ocean spurting through each open crack between the boards with a rushing spray of salt water.

Ennis held Jack’s head above the surface and pressed his chest against Jack’s shivering body. He wished he could warm him, like the day he lay with K.E. after he fell through the ice and needed to be rescued from death’s grip. The thought of saving K.E.’s life saddened Ennis, now that his brother had doomed the future he planned with Jack. Maybe it would be best if he stayed here until they both drowned, leaving Carter to row back ashore without the lantern and without a companion.

“I know you’re going to heaven,” Ennis said, breathing warm on Jack’s lips, fighting back his tears.   
“When you get there, keep an eye out for me. I’ll be along soon, I promise.”

“There’s no place for me in heaven,” Jack whispered, taking a breath before the next wave crashed through them.

Ennis’s head broke the water first and he blinked the salty wash from his eyes. “Sure there is, Jack. You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known,” he said. 

“No, I’m not,” Jack insisted.

“Yes, you’ve shown only kindness to others. You’ve been a good person your whole life no matter what circumstances you faced.”

“No,” Jack said, the next wave gathering. “I’ve committed the worst of sins.”

Ennis watched the tears mix with the water that cascaded down Jack’s face. “Don’t say that.” Ennis said, rubbing his palm along Jack’s cheek, his thumb sweeping the tears away.

“I killed my own mother, Ennis,” said Jack, his mouth lingering open.

The wave coursed through the ship, the tide lifting the sunken hull from the sand. The wreck floated upright for a moment, its wooden frame creaking under the pressure of the ocean.

“No,” said Ennis, cradling Jack’s face in his hands, the water draining below his shoulders with the uptake of the ship, allowing him a glimpse of the ropes. “Your mother was accused of witchcraft. You were a boy. You had nothing to do with that.”

Ennis thought he saw an end to the ropes that bound Jack, but the ship was dropped back onto the sandbar by the passing wave and water filled the hull again, obscuring the view allowed by the flickering lanternglow.

“Oh, but I did,” said Jack, his teeth chattering in the cool air. “It’s the reason my father gave me away, the scar on my arm from where he dragged me through villages looking for a master who wouldn’t let me return home.”

“Tell me, Jack,” Ennis said, continuing his fevered work on the ropes, searching for their ending.

“When I was a boy in Torsaker,” Jack shivered. “The priest gathered the congregation outside the church. He ordered a witchcraft investigation. Me and another boy from my village were made to stand by the door to identify those among us who were witches.”

“That’s awful,” Ennis said, bracing for another wave.

“We were told that we’d be boiled alive if we didn’t comply with the orders. The priest explained that a mark would appear upon the witch’s foreheads, a sign of their treachery. I was so scared.”

“Of course you were, Jack. You were but four years old,” Ennis said, his fingers fumbling with the knots while the waves sloshed through the hull, the ship rising and falling from the sand. He wished he could stop his solitary mission to free Jack from the ropes to offer him some comfort, but he opted instead to let his fingers trace the bindings, the route of which became more ingrained in his memory with the shifting tide’s revelations.

“I never saw any such marks, but I made my selections in fear for my life.”

“I understand. What else could you do?”

“When my mother came to the doorway, I was so happy to see her. I opened my arms and cried out to her,” Jack sobbed.

“Jack?” Ennis breathed, pausing in his efforts to let a wave of ocean wash over them. “Did they believe you identified your own mother as a witch?”

“Yes,” Jack’s eyes drifted shut. “I didn’t understand what I had done. No one knew what was going to happen after the congregation was sorted.”

A wave rained over their heads before Jack could sputter more of his grim confession. “No one. Until the chosen were led away to the hill in the center of our village. They were decapitated and burned at the stake. I can still see my mother’s face when she was led to her death.”

The ship rocked upright again on a wave, the sandbar relinquishing it from the deep hold. The receding water revealing the roped mass to Ennis’s eyes again.

“She smiled at me, Ennis. She was so brave, even when going to her death. I think she forgave me,” Jack said. “But I’ll never be able to forgive myself.”

Ennis’s hand touched upon a rope end. He almost neglected the feel of it brushing against the back of his hand underwater at first. But, there it was. The memorized exploration of the ropes allowed him to loosen Jack’s bindings, oblivious to the crashing waves that pushed the shipwreck sideways.

“I’ve got it,” Ennis shouted, securing his footing, his hands uncoiling the ropes while the ship slid further into the sandbar, water rushing in through the open hatch. “And you can forgive yourself. If you can forgive me for telling K.E. that I didn’t know you, I have no doubt that you’ll overcome this, too.”

Jacks arms finally swung free from the waterlogged ropes. He helped Ennis with the last tangle that secured him to the ship’s wooden frame, his fingers curled with numbness.

The wreck rested for a long moment while the ocean poured through the hatch until the ship floated level, swaying silently on its side.

“You said it yourself when we were awaiting our trial- that you were concerned with your future, not with the past that you had no power to change,” Ennis said.

“I remember,” nodded Jack.

Ennis wrapped his arms around him, steadying them while the ship silently filled with the slow flow of the ocean.

“If you can’t fix it, you’ve got to stand it,” said Ennis, pressing a hard kiss to Jack’s smiling lips. “And I’ll help you. I’m not ready to let you go yet, Jack Twist.”

And without hesitation, they plunged into the swirling water, swimming toward the freedom that awaited them outside the hatch.


	45. Chapter 45

_”If you can’t fix it, you’ve got to stand it,” said Ennis, pressing a hard kiss to Jack’s smiling lips. “And I’ll help you. I’m not ready to let you go yet, Jack Twist.”_

_And without hesitation, they plunged into the swirling water, swimming toward the freedom that awaited them outside the hatch._

The lantern swung in rhythm with the tide, its beam guiding them through the darkness of the wrecked hull. Ennis treaded water, staying close to Jack, one hand ready to give his arm a reassuring touch if he deemed it necessary. He could barely feel his legs, but he struggled onward, kicking against the numbing cold sea.

“Hold on,” Ennis said, giving Jack a little push when they neared the now vertical opening through which Ennis had descended. Jack slapped his hand onto the frame, a window overlooking the rippling waves that breached the threshold of the hatch’s lower edge. Ennis reached the opening and covered Jack’s shriveled hand with his own. For a moment, Jack’s eyes shifted from the frame, to meet Ennis’s eyes in the golden lanternglow.

“Ennis,” Jack said, swallowing hard. His mouth shivered, but no words escaped his lips.

Ennis glanced out toward the rolling sea, the smooth waves glittering in the moonlight.

“You’re free now. You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his lips drawn thin. He tilted his head toward Jack and nuzzled his ear. “I love you. I stood up to K.E. because of you. Look at me… how strong you’ve made me. I’ll never let you go again… never. I had to find you, to tell you, so you’d know it from my heart.”

Jack turned his face into Ennis’s matted curls. “What took you so long?”

Ennis snorted, water spewing from his nose. “Come on, we’ve got a ride back to the mainland.”

Ennis removed the swinging lantern from where he had hung it before he began to search the hull, never imagining that he would find Jack so near.

“Here, give it to me,” Jack said, spitting salt water from his mouth. “I’ll hold it while you climb out.”

“Alright,” said Ennis, delivering the lantern into Jack’s grasp. He hoisted himself through the hatch frame, splashing into the ocean outside the wreck. His head ached with the effort, but the water felt warmer compared to the confines of the dank hull. He held onto the frame with wrinkled fingers and accepted the lantern from Jack.

He watched Jack pull himself onto the edge of the frame, before spilling over into the deep, disappearing beneath the water. Ennis swung the lantern over the entry bubbles, sighing with relief when Jack’s head broke the surface.

“Haven’t you gotten wet enough?” Ennis scowled.

“I didn’t expect to go all the way under,” said Jack, shaking his wet head back and forth, sending a spray of water into Ennis’s face.

“You worried me for a moment,” said Ennis, biting down on his bottom lip.

Jack grabbed hold of the frame and pushed his way through the water toward Ennis. “Good,” he sputtered. “You’ll always worry about me, won’t you?”

“Yes,” Ennis said, meeting Jack’s eyes, his face aglow in the lantern’s beam. “It’s the only thing I can guarantee right now.”

He pressed his lips to Jack’s, closed his eyes and tasted the salt on his cold tongue. He opened his mouth wider, lost in the deepening kiss that turned warm, making him forget that they clung together to a shipwreck, far from shore and the uncertain future that awaited them there.

Only when Jack had pulled away from the kiss, did Ennis scan the horizon for Carter. The sun had long since set, but the rainbowed streaks of its disappearance painted the sky’s edge with color.

“Carter brought me here,” Ennis said. “He’s somewhere out there, waiting for me.”

“Waiting for us,” Jack said, tightening his grip on the hatch frame.

“Carter!” Ennis shouted, before dissolving into a coughing fit.

“Should we both yell?” asked Jack, when Ennis regained his breath.

“Just hang on,” Ennis said, “He’ll see the lantern.”

“Listen.”

Ennis heard the splash of the oars hitting the water before he saw the rowboat. The brightness of the lantern masked his view of his approaching friend.

In no time at all, Carter brought the boat in close to pick up his passengers.

“Praise be to God,” said Carter. “You’ve found him.”

“God didn’t have anything to do with it,” snorted Ennis.

“Let’s have you board one at a time,” said Carter, holding the rowboat steady in the waves that rocked between the two vessels.

“You go first,” Ennis said to Jack. “You’re colder than me.”

Jack nodded and released his hold on the frame. Ennis held the lantern outward, so he could light Jack’s way. He saw Carter pull the oars in, when Jack reached for the gunwale. With a mighty tug, Carter hauled Jack into the rowboat.

Ennis felt more relieved now than he had since he woke up from his injury-induced sleep at K.E.’s. His euphoria alone allowed him to slip from the shipwreck and tread his way across the great gulf of water that separated him from Jack. He held Carter’s lantern high and kicked with tired legs, until he touched the wood with the palm of his free hand.

He gave Jack the lantern, and allowed Carter to pull him aboard, the water dripping from his saturated trousers. He landed in the rowboat, squirming like a fish out of water, his chest heaving in the chilly night air. When he regained his breath, he pushed himself up on his elbows and shimmied into the front of the boat with Jack.

“We’re lucky I can see by the moonlight,” said Carter as he regained the oars and headed for Newburyport.

“Carter,” Ennis gasped. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“Yes, thanks for helping us,” Jack said, his teeth chattering against the cold.

“Baaah,” Carter dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’ll never be too old to enjoy a good adventure.”

Ennis smiled and rubbed his hands between his knees, trying to warm them.

“Throw this over you lads before you catch your death,” Carter said, stopping mid-stroke to toss Ennis’s discarded shirt to the men.

Ennis caught it and spread it wide. “Come on, get closer,” he murmured to Jack.

Jack scooted over so his back rested on Ennis’s chest, Ennis’s arms embracing him.

Ennis was beyond caring what Carter thought of the men’s closeness. He draped the shirt over both of them, its thin fabric a poor blanket against the night, but the best that could be done under the circumstances.

“They tried to kill you, Jack?” Carter asked from his seat while he rowed.

“Tried to give me a slow death by drowning,” said Jack.

“I’ll see to it that they never work in Newburyport again,” said Carter. “Are you hurt, did they beat you?”

“They roughed me up and kept me locked in a barn for a few days while they decided what to do with me,” Jack replied, settling back against Ennis’s chest. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Ennis took a nasty blow to the head, did he tell you?” asked Carter, his even strokes bringing them toward the shore.

“He did?” Jack turned to look at him in astonishment.

Ennis tightened his arms around Jack, brushing his lips against Jack’s wet hair.

“When I stood up to K.E. after they took you away, his wife whacked me in the head with a spade.”

“Are you alright?” Jack asked.

“Mmm, I’ll be alright,” Ennis said.

Jack shifted so he could whisper in Ennis’s ear, “You’re sure that you’re not worried anymore. About standing up for me… for us?”

“Not anymore,” Ennis said, trying to ignore the lump that formed in his throat when he remembered how he had denied Jack.

Jack found Ennis’s hand and rubbed his thumb into his palm, tracing circles over Ennis’s clammy skin. Ennis squeezed Jack’s thumb gently. He closed his eyes, knowing that everything would be alright.

When they reached the dock, Carter threw the rowboat’s line around the pier, before helping the men onto the solid ground.

“Steady there, Jack,” he said, observing the man stumble in surprise at the unmoving earth.

“I’m still feeling dizzy myself,” said Ennis. “Perhaps if we hold each other up, we’ll be able to walk a straight line.”

Jack laughed and threw an arm around Ennis’s shoulders. Ennis jerked at the contact with his cold skin.

“You’re freezing,” said Ennis, pulling him closer.

“You’re just as cold,” said Jack.

“I’ll see what I can do about warming you two up at the house,” said Carter. “I’ll assume you’ll be staying the night?”

“Thanks, Carter,” said Ennis. “We need to sort out what the future holds for us. You’re generous to offer us warmth for the night, but we don’t want to impose upon you any more than necessary.”

“I’m a lonely old man,” Carter said sadly. “Since my wife died, God rest her kind soul, I’ve made it my business to help others in need. She would have wanted it that way, and I’m not about to stop now.”

When the boat was secure, the men ambled along the cobblestone path to Carter’s house. Ennis followed Jack and Carter into the barn on unsteady feet, where he watched the former cooper replace the lantern among the clutter of wood and tin, tools and glass, that Ennis guessed he used for his inventions.

At the house door, they were greeted by a manservant dressed in a linen nightshirt and carrying a sconce.

“Master Carter,” he said. “We’ve been worried about your unexpected late evening.”

“Nothing to worry about, Sam. But these gentlemen will require the use of the master guest room tonight. Please lay them a fire and prepare a hot bath. They’ll also need some clothing before they freeze half to death, and something warm to eat.”

“Anything else?” nodded Sam.

“Nothing I can think of,” said Carter, removing his jacket and dropping it into Sam’s grasp. “Gentlemen, I’m turning in for the night. See you for breakfast.”


	46. Chapter 46

_“Gentlemen, I’m turning in for the night. See you for breakfast.”_

“Goodnight Carter, thanks again,” said Ennis.

“Yes, thanks for everything,” added Jack before Carter disappeared through the doorway.

“Well, gentlemen,” started Sam, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s get you two out of those wet clothes. I’ll find you some robes and ask Annette to take care of the… uh… you’ll need two rooms prepared, won’t you?”

“No,” said Ennis, surprising himself with the speed of his answer.

“Don’t bother,” said Jack.

Sam raised an eyebrow, almost imperceptibly, the grooves lining his forehead growing deeper for an instant. Ennis regretted his haste and worked his jaw in search of something to say, relieved when Jack came to the rescue.

“We’re brothers,” said Jack, throwing an arm around Ennis’s shoulders. “We’ve shared a bed under better circumstances. There’s no need for us to inconvenience Carter any further.”

“Very well, as you wish,” Sam answered after a pause, leaving the room on shuffling feet. 

The door thudded shut behind him and the men were left alone to shiver in the narrow hallway.

“Brothers?” questioned Ennis with a grin, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight from the sconces that lined the entrance.

“It’s the best I could do at the moment,” said Jack tucking a curl behind Ennis’s ear. “Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” said Ennis, taking Jack’s hand and squeezing it in his own. “We’ll be safer that way… if Sam doesn’t suspect.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Jack, stepping closer so Ennis felt his breath on his cheek. “You know, from here on, we’ll have to choose which battles we fight.”

“You’re right. And I’ll be ready when we must. You believe me?” said Ennis, scanning Jack’s face.

“I do believe you,” Jack nodded.

“Jack,” Ennis whispered, his heart overflowing with Jack’s affirmation. He brushed their noses together quickly, fighting the urge to kiss him, since Sam could return at any moment.

“That was an easy battle to avoid. I’m afraid that others may be more difficult,” said Jack.

“I’m ready,” said Ennis. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He released Jack’s hand as the door swung open and Sam appeared with two dressing gowns.

“Gentlemen, put these on and follow me,” he said, seemingly none worse for preparing only one room for Carter’s guests.

The thought crossed Ennis’s mind that Sam had seen his fair share of unsettling behavior or unusual kindnesses distributed by Carter over the years, and this was no stranger an occurrence than Carter driving through the colonies after dark with only his lantern illuminating the way. Ennis stuffed his hands through the soft linen, the warm fabric calming the goosebumps on his naked skin. He tied the sash and stripped off his trousers, peeling the wet fabric from his legs.

“You may leave your boots in the entryway,” said Sam. “I’ll take your garments and see that they’re laundered in the morning.”

The men followed Sam into the main room where they enjoyed the warmth emanating from the red coals of the hearth. Sam motioned for them to sit at the table, laden with fruits, bread and cheese.

Without hesitation, Ennis sat and tore into a hunk of bread, passing the loaf to Jack while Sam ladled porridge into bowls he had placed before the men. They ate in relative silence, emitting only an occasional groan or sigh, replenishing their bodies with the nourishment they had been deprived of during the past days. The food filled their bellies, just as their secret stolen glances and nods replenished their hearts and minds with the love and comfort that had been absent during their separation.

“If you’re ready,” said Sam, when the men were finished eating, “I’ll take you to your room.”

Ennis let out a soft belch and pushed back from the table to follow Jack and Sam through the enormous home, arriving at a doorway that Sam opened for them. They stepped inside the warm guest room, heated by a roaring fire, a stack of wood at the ready.

A bed piled with quilts and pillows of every shape and size jutted into the room from the opposite wall. Between the bed and the fire, the remnants of a barrel that had been cut in two lengthwise rested on its side. Steam rose from the half-barrel, making Ennis suppose it was to be their bath that Carter mentioned.

“There’s more hot water on the hearth if you need it,” said Sam. “And if there’s nothing else you require, I’d like to go to sleep.”

“No,” said Ennis, raising his hand. “We won’t keep you any longer. You’ve been very generous with your time.”

“Yes, thank you so much,” said Jack.

“Well then, goodnight gentlemen,” said Sam, closing the door behind him.

Ennis watched Jack sigh with relief, and in an instant they were on each other, touching, stroking, caressing. The weight of the day had finally been lifted from Ennis, making him shudder with gratitude. He took Jack’s face in his hands and resumed the kiss he had started when they clung to the ship’s hull earlier, his fingers twining through his hair, his lips murmuring previously unspoken promises.

“You’re still cold,” Ennis whispered, when he broke away to catch his breath.

“I think the bath will take care of that,” said Jack, bending to dip his fingers into the steaming water.

“I’ll let you go first,” said Ennis, tugging Jack’s arm to draw him up to his full height. “You need it worse than I.”

Ennis dug his fingers beneath the robe, his palms sliding over Jack’s chest. He watched Jack’s eyelashes flutter when his thumbs brushed against his nipples. His hands continued their journey, his eyes following, as they dragged the fabric off Jack’s muscled shoulders, stripping his arms bare. Jack buried his hands in Ennis’s curly hair when he knelt to undo the knot that Jack had tied in his sash, a far easier task than freeing him from the ropes that bound him to the ship.

“Oh, it’s bad,” said Jack, noticing Ennis’s gash for the first time, his fingers prodding the wound.

“It doesn’t hurt much anymore,” Ennis said. He shucked his own robe and held Jack’s hand to allow him to step into the barrel. A smile came to Jack’s face when he lowered himself into the soothing hot water.

“How about you? Think you can fit?” asked Jack.

“Let’s try,” said Ennis, grabbing the mound of castile soap that had been left for them. He held the barrel’s side and stepped in, descending onto his knees to straddle Jack, their cocks touching, hard and needy.

“This’ll feel good,” said Jack, taking the dipper that hung from the barrel to pour the steaming liquid down Ennis’s back.

Ennis moaned at the sensation, gathering his wits enough to work up lather with the soap between his hands. His fingers splayed over Jack’s chest, his face, his hair, coating him in suds with a gentle touch.

“Does it hurt?” Ennis asked, noticing Jack’s wince when he ran soapy hands down his arms.

“Just sore from being tied up,” Jack said, biting his bottom lip.

“Is that all?” asked Ennis, dragging a finger across the scar on Jack’s arm, the mystery behind the mark now known between them. His eyes lingered on the indentation that had reminded Jack of so much pain.

“I’m glad I told you about it,” said Jack, meeting Ennis’s eyes in the firelight. “I never thought I’d have the chance, when I was alone in the ship. I was afraid that you meant what you said. I thought you’d never come for me.”

“Shhh,” said Ennis, placing the finger against Jack’s lips. “It’s as if I always knew. Like I had known all along what you’d overcome when you were a boy. It’s in everything you do. It’s a part of who you are now.”

Ennis heard the uneasy intake of Jack’s breath.

“It only makes me love you more,” Ennis finished.

Jack took Ennis’s hand and kissed the palm first, before pressing his lips to the inside of his wrist. He dragged a soapy hand down Ennis’s chest, grazing the length of his erect cock before squeezing his balls gently in his palm.

“Never stop,” said Jack, taking Ennis’s hand and bringing it to his own erect cock. “Let’s never stop showing each other.”

Ennis leaned back, allowing Jack to rise to his knees, and then it was Jack’s turn to touch, to wash, to love, Ennis’s tired body. Ennis took every opportunity to put his mouth on Jack’s skin while Jack worked the lather over his injured head, washing away the dirt and grime, the seawater and salt, leaving him clean again.

When his work was done, Jack turned in Ennis’s arms to grip the sides of the barrel, groaning when Ennis pushed a slender finger into him, making good use of the soapy water. Ennis scraped his teeth across Jack’s shoulder blades, listening to Jack’s breath increase with the flickering flames in the hearth.

Soon Jack’s sounds turned into pleading whimpers and Ennis skimmed his hands up Jack’s soapy torso, guiding him toward his cock. He felt Jack take control of his position to slide down onto him until he was sheathed in Jack’s warmth.

Ennis snapped his hips, meeting each of Jack’s downward thrusts, water sloshing in the barrel. It wasn’t long before he slipped over the edge, grinding his forehead into the back of Jack’s neck with his release. Jack followed, using his own hand to shuttle up and down his cock in time with Ennis’s hips. The water’s surface became tame again, by the time Ennis caught his breath.

They stumbled toward the bed, exhausted, drying their skin haphazardly on the way. Jack pulled the cool covers over their warm bodies and Ennis sidled up to Jack, pressing his back against the warmth of Jack’s chest. If there was a heaven, the feeling there would be just this, at last belonging in his rightful place, without a question that he was home. He felt Jack’s arms embrace him before he fell into a satisfied sleep.


	47. Chapter 47

_He felt Jack’s arms embrace him before he fell into a satisfied sleep._

Outside, the moon crept across the night sky, glimmering rays approaching the window’s opaque panes, allowing only the strongest beams to penetrate through. Ennis’s mouth twitched in his dreams, the flow of dim moonglow soft on his pillow while he passed the night in blissful slumber, wrapped in the warm circle of Jack’s arms.

Dreams slid over the canvas of his sleeping mind, his weakened physical state leaving him powerless to stop them. Memories materialized of the time he spent with Jack, wandering through the low meadows, the wind rushing through their hair, like they had done before the Indians captured them, before they rode to Newburyport, and before Ennis knew his own brother’s mind.

Ennis followed Jack into the fading distance, their boots flattening the mounds of sedge, crushed leaves emitting their fresh scent into the summer air. Hazy trees blurred the line between the horizon and the grass when Jack suddenly announced his departure, his mouth moving in some unheard effort, his hand dragging down Ennis’s cheek in apology before he turned away. It was over. They were finished, Ennis’s purpose no longer necessary.

Ennis jerked awake, his back to the mattress, sweat dripping from his brow. Alone in the sea of sheets and pillows, adrift in the bed’s vastness, desperate breath panted from his lips.

“Jack,” he whispered, skimming a hand across the sheets.

“Jack?”

His fingers found Jack’s sleeping form, pliant and soft with the lull of slumber. Ennis fought to align his memory with the events of the past few days. He huffed out a long quiet sigh of relief and gratitude for the truth of the days that had brought him here.

He let his fingers glide their way along Jack’s torso to card through the soft hair of his chest. Ennis’s hopes, so close to being lost with the swift strike of Rufina’s spade, would never be lost again. He pressed his palm to the curved plane of Jack’s chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing in the summer night, the steady heartbeat strong and true.

“Jack,” he barely whispered so as not to wake the man, but to hear his own voice and know this was real. He needed to stop the memory of the dream where he was no longer necessary for Jack to make amends with his past, an obsolete instrument of forgiveness for his mother’s death sentence. Jack needed him still, Ennis breathed assured. He’d need him always, unlike the other people in Ennis’s life who had left him, his parents by an accident of fate, his betrothed who spat on him in the village square, his brother who gave him the ultimatum to leave his thoughts of Jack or live without the support of his family.

The first rays of dawn made their way through the windowpane, setting the room aglow. Ennis turned to his side so he could bury his nose in the hollow of Jack’s neck, the aroma of the castile and fresh water blending with his own sweet scent.

“Need me,” Ennis murmured, still half asleep.

“Ennis?”

Jack slid his hand to where Ennis’s palm rested, covering Ennis’s hand with his own, giving a reassuring squeeze.

“Tell me you need me,” Ennis whispered in the breaking dawn light.

“Mmm,” Jack mumbled. He curled his fingers under Ennis’s hand and pressed the pads into Ennis’s palm.

“You’ll always need me.”

“Of course I will,” said Jack, his voice full of sleep.

“It’ll be enough,” Ennis breathed. “I’ll be enough for you.”

Like the rush of water crashing onto the land, Ennis felt Jack lift his hand from his chest and shift onto his side, pressing his lips against Ennis’s, their tongues sliding together, Jack’s beard softly tickling Ennis’s cheek.

“Why would you think I don’t need you?” Jack asked, pulling their lips apart, his fingers laced in Ennis’s curls.

Ennis tried to move his face away, but Jack held him fast, despite his harsh awakening.

“I was just thinking,” Ennis said, laughing when Jack resumed kissing the corner of his mouth.

“You were thinking?” Jack asked, his lips still pressing promises to Ennis’s mouth, his chin, his nose.

“I dreamed you didn’t need me anymore,” Ennis said, glancing at the scar on Jack’s arm.

“Why would you ever think that?” Jack murmured, propping himself up on his elbows, his face hovering above Ennis’s.

“You saved me from the gallows, kept me from being hung.”

“I saved my own skin that day, too,” Jack nodded.

Ennis watched Jack play with a lock of his golden curls, stretching the strands to their limit before letting them spring back into a loose coil again.

“You saved me, when you couldn’t save your mother,” he whispered.

Jack pressed another kiss to Ennis’s lips.

“You must have gotten some satisfaction from that,” Ennis continued. “And with that done, you might not need me around anymore.” Ennis tried to look at the ceiling where the shadows of branches swayed in the morning seabreeze.

Jack stopped in his ministering of kisses and drew back to look at Ennis’s face.

Ennis tried to guess his thoughts. “You can go wherever you like, do whatever you want,” Ennis said, cocking his head. “You might not need me anymore.”

Ennis chewed on his bottom lip, secretly worried that Jack would agree. He was, after all, just a stableboy, an unwilling partner in a marriage to Alma, a man on the run from authorities for being in the wrong place when the witch hunters were easily persuaded. He knew there would be no guarantee of a happy ending for two fellows like he and Jack. If Jack wanted to seek his fortune alone, he had to give him the opportunity, even if it meant being alone again with no one to love him, no one to matter to him, no one to care about him, just like there hadn’t been before.

Jack smoothed his fingertips over Ennis’s forehead, kissing the hard orbit of his eye, his tongue laving the soft brow hairs there. Ennis felt Jack’s palm sliding along his torso, stopping at his hip, his thumb pressing and fingers possessing and squeezing the sensitive flesh.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept in a bed?” Jack whispered.

Ennis flexed his toes, his own legs trapped between Jack’s strong limbs.

“K.E. and his wife out me in a bed-“

“No, no, no, how long since we’ve slept in a soft bed together?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Why, never,” said Ennis nodding back and forth. “We never have.” 

“Do you think you could get used to it?” Jack rutted against Ennis’s thigh with his hardness.

Ennis laughed. “I think I could.”

“I hope you can, because I’m not ready to let you go yet,” said Jack, scrambling to get his knees underneath him, his mouth working its way down Ennis’s chest, nipping at the sparsely-furred skin to elicit quiet laughter.

“I’ve got plans for the future, and they require your participation,” smiled Jack.

“They do?” laughed Ennis. “I can only imagine what they are.”

“The first thing we must do,” said Jack as he pressed soft sucking kisses to the trail of hair that led from Ennis’s belly, “We must build a house with an enormous bedroom.”

“And why ever should that be important?” Ennis squirmed, trying to shove the covers off his lower half, eager to get Jack to pay attention to his swelling cock.

“Because,” said Jack, mouthing Ennis through the sheet, “We’ll need a place to put our enormous bed.”

Ennis’s hips bucked with the purpose, only to have their movements quelled by Jack’s hand working slowly between Ennis’s legs, cupping his balls beneath the fabric, leaving him with an incoherent grin across his face.

A spark from the fireplace snapped, the wood burned down mostly to coals in this morning hour.

Ennis groaned in a daze as Jack continued the sweet torture, his lids half-closed in pleasure.

At his urging, Jack finally peeled the sheet away, letting the fabric graze across Ennis’s thighs. He flashed Ennis a glance from beneath his lashes before he leaned to touch the tip of his tongue to the end of Ennis’s cock, tasting the slit that ran with clear slick and licking his lips. Ennis punched his fists under his pillow so he could raise his head to easily watch Jack, the sight of him sucking his cock into his mouth, at least half as arousing as the sensation itself.

He watched as Jack sucked the head in, happily sliding his lips over the hard edge, licking swirls of saliva along the tip. Ennis let out a stifled groan when Jack took his cock into his hand and pumped in time with the slide of his lips as they skimmed over his leaking length.

“Jack,” Ennis steeled himself, fingers gripping the edges of the pillow, toes curling, while Jack pinned his hips to the mattress with both hands, holding him in place while drinking in the spurts of warmth that he helped Ennis produce.

“Come here, come back up here,” Ennis said, when his breathing had almost returned to normal. “Let me take care of you, too.”

Jack dropped a kiss on Ennis’s softening cock and crawled back up the bed. Ennis gathered Jack into his arms and kissed him deeply, loving the taste of himself on his man’s mouth. He pushed Jack onto his back and began his own appreciative journey when he was stopped by a knock on the door. Jack’s eyes met his and Ennis flew from the bed to don his robe. He tied the sash hastily as he stomped across the room.

“Yes,” Ennis said, trying to sound stern, when he cracked the door open to see Sam standing outside.

“There’s someone here to see you,” said Sam.

“Who?” asked Ennis, thinking that his brother may have tracked him to Carter’s house. He turned to Jack, still in bed, and added, “No one knows we’re here.”

“He’s an Indian,” answered Sam. “He says his name is Kagelolit.”


	48. Chapter 48

_“There’s someone here to see you,” said Sam._

_“Who?” asked Ennis, thinking that his brother may have tracked him to Carter’s house. He turned to Jack, still in bed, and added, “No one knows we’re here.”_

_“He’s an Indian,” answered Sam. “He says his name is Kagelolit.”_

“Kagelolit?” Ennis’s eyebrows shot up.

Jack merely shrugged from beneath the covers.

“We’ll be right there,” Ennis nodded, allowing the door to drift shut.

Jack slid out of bed and strode the few steps to meet Ennis at the doorway.

“It can’t be good news,” he said, slipping his arms around Ennis’s waist.

“Only one way to find out,” said Ennis. He smoothed his palms down Jack’s bare arms, gently pushing him away. “Get some clothing on, and we’ll go see him together.”

He watched Jack pluck the dressing gown from the floor where it had dropped the night before. Jack made quick work of shoving his hands through the sleeves and tying the sash.

“Ready?” asked Ennis.

“As ready as I can be,” said Jack, adjusting his erection that protruded against the white linen fabric of his garment.

“I’ll take care of you later,” Ennis smiled, drawing Jack into an embrace. He savored the firmness of the man pressing against him, pulling him tight, all too worried that Kagelolit’s visit might bring word that would further endanger them both. A visit from their Indian ally could herald an end to their days together, much sooner than Ennis had imagined. He mouthed a kiss against Jack’s neck, softly biting the skin enough to make Jack groan in protest.

“Are we going to see what Kagelolit wants?” Jack murmured soft in Ennis’s ear. “You’re giving me other ideas.” 

“Alright,” Ennis said, reluctantly releasing his hold. “Let’s go see what this is all about.”

His thumb pressed on the iron latch to open the door. Jack stood behind him and squeezed his shoulders, dipping his head to press his lips to the nape of Ennis’s neck.

“Just make sure you walk in front of me,” Jack said with a chuckle.

Ennis snorted, happy that Jack had retained his sense of humor after his dangerous ordeal. Jack had proven that he could always find the positive side of any situation. Ennis could ask for nothing more from the companion to his lonely days.

The men exited their warm den to pad barefoot along the wooden floor of the house. Ennis wondered how Kagelolit had found them. More than a week had passed since they left the Indian village. He worried what news would have brought him all the way to the seaport. After all, Kagelolit was supposed to be on his way to meet with his beloved Owassa, some miles to the south. He had delayed his departure from the village so his sudden absence wouldn’t draw attention to his association with Jack and Ennis.

They followed the sound of voices and found their way into the kitchen. Kagelolit rose from his seat where he had been engaged in discussion with Carter. Ennis knew instantly from Carter’s grim expression that Kagelolit hadn’t come to enjoy the freshly boiled eggs or warm crumpets that Carter’s servants had placed at the table.

“Ennis, my friend,” Kagelolit said, greeting him with a strong embrace. Ennis studied his expression as his grey eyes drifted toward Jack. “I have brought word that will give you great sadness.”

“What is it?” Ennis sighed. Although he anticipated bad news, the confirmation of his suspicions disappointed him. He had hoped that, for once, he would be mistaken. A peaceful future, one where he could roam the forests and meadows with Jack, eluded him every time they neared their mutual goal. Thoughts of their impending doom exploded through his head like dandelion spores blown apart by the wind. “Go ahead, tell me.”

“It affects your friend… Jack,” Kagelolit said, turning his full attention to the man who stood behind Ennis.

“Me?” asked Jack. “What is it?”

Kagelolit took a deep breath. “I am sorry to inform you that Master Griswold is dead,” he said.

The fire sputtered as Sam added wood to the diminishing flames in the kitchen’s stone hearth. The moist wood hissed and sparked on the hot coals.

“Dead?” Ennis gasped. He felt like he had been pushed off a cliff, his stomach rising to his throat. He rushed to support Jack who sank to his knees on the hard kitchen floor. Ennis slid a hand under Jack’s elbow and helped him to his unsteady feet. Sparkling tears had gathered in Jack’s eyes. His face went pale in the morning light that streamed through the kitchen window while the rest of the world carried on as normal.

“Sam,” snapped Carter, “Please pour some fresh water for Mr. Twist.”

“Come, sit down,” Ennis said, guiding Jack into a chair. He took a seat next to him on a creaking bench and smoothed Jack’s shoulders with his own shaking fingers.

Sam filled a cup with water from a silver pitcher and placed it in Jack’s hand.

“Thank you,” said Jack, tentatively sipping the liquid.

“How?” Ennis asked, his eyes imploring Kagelolit to speak.

Kagelolit knelt on the floor at Jack’s feet and took his hands in his own. “He was checking some bear traps on the outskirts of the village when his horse startled. Something spooked the animal somehow, and Griz was thrown to the ground. He landed on his head and the skin split open. Two of our braves found him when they were hunting for eagles. They carried him back to the village, but it was too late. The medicine men chanted over him for a day and a night, until Griz could speak no longer. Jack, it saddens me greatly to bring you this news,” Kagelolit said. “You were his friend.”

“Yes,” Jack nodded, gathering himself with a sharp inhale. “I appreciate it, you coming all this way to tell me this.”

“How did you even find us?” asked Ennis, palming his forehead.

“I followed the directions Griz gave me,” said Kagelolit, rising to his feet. “They brought me across the meadows beside the great river. Then I crossed the water on horseback and found the Treadwell’s home. His daughter was of great assistance to me. She told me that you were seen last with Carter, and here I have found you. Carter’s generosity has been well known throughout my tribe for years. Like Griz, he has been a friend to the Indians.”

“One can never have too many allies in these days,” said Carter, nodding at Kagelolit. “I’m so sorry, Jack, for the death of your friend. It was noble of Kagelolit to travel here to tell you about this tragedy.”

“That’s a long journey to make, just to give Jack bad news,” said Ennis. He wondered whether it would have been better for Kagelolit to have carried out his plan to meet Owassa, letting Jack believe that Griz was still alive. He could see no sense in upsetting Jack further with news of Griz’s death, but then Kagelolit had no idea what Jack and Ennis had been through over the past week.

“Griz gave you directions?” asked Jack, his eyes wide.

“Yes, he wanted to make sure I could find you,” said Kagelolit. He walked to the chair he had vacated when the men had entered the room, and produced a leather satchel suspended by a braided strap. “In his final words to me, he begged me to promise I would deliver this to you.”

Kagelolit unfastened the satchel and reached inside. He removed a scroll of parchment, bound with a strand of twine. Ennis noticed that the document once had a wax seal, jagged edges where it had been broken in two.

Carter looked on with curious eyes. “That’s the governor’s seal,” he noted. “I’d recognize it anywhere.”

“Griz had this hidden away, among his belongings. He told me where to find it,” Kagelolit said. “He said it was for you.” Kagelolit handed the water-stained roll to Jack.

Jack accepted the parcel, closing his eyes for a moment. He released the twine from the scroll and unfurled the parchment, fighting to keep it flat against the long wooden table.

Carter stood up and helped to hold the corners, his eyes scanning the brushstrokes on the tattered paper.

“What does it say?” Ennis asked, resting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“It’s a charter,” said Jack.

“From the King?” asked Ennis, incredulously.

“Yes, it looks like King William granted Governor Phips a tract of land,” said Jack, his eyes roaming from line to line of the ornate writing. “North of Bearcamp River… wherever that is.”

“I know that river,” said Kagelolit. “It flows into the Saco, far north of here.”

“What does that have to do with Griz?” asked Ennis.

“I can’t be sure, but it seems that Governor Phips gave this tract of land to him, in 1688,” said Carter, his eyes drifting to the lower edge of the parchment. “The King’s timber grows on that land, the mast pines for England’s ships. It would be of great value to the person who possessed its resources.”

“Griz had no use for the land,” said Kagelolit. “He followed the ways of my people.”

“That’s probably why he kept the document locked away, he didn’t know if he would need it later in life,” said Carter.

“Why would Phips have given it to him?” asked Ennis.

“He may have earned it by trading with Phips, long before he was made governor. Both Phips and Master Griswold were successful merchants in the seaport,” said Carter.

“He could have used the land if he wanted to,” said Jack.

“But that wasn’t his way,” said Kagelolit.

“He never needed to use the land to support his family, so he kept it safely put aside for the next generation,” said Carter.

“But there was no next generation for him,” said Jack thoughtfully.

“He married Elysa, and she died in the smallpox outbreak,” said Kagelolit.

“He had no survivors,” said Ennis.

“Except you,” Kagelolit said.

All eyes turned to the man in possession of the parchment.

“Me?” asked Jack.


	49. Chapter 49

_All eyes turned to the man in possession of the parchment._

_“Me?” asked Jack._

He glanced at the men surrounding the table. Again, he scanned the document, smoothing a hand over the wrinkled surface, the smudged letters passing beneath his fingers. He let out a shaky sigh.

“You were like a son to him,” said Kagelolit. “He knew you since you were a child.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Jack said, tapping his hand on the table. “But I wasn’t related to him. Not by blood.”

“He cared for you, taught you to read and write,” Ennis said, squeezing Jack’s shoulder, remembering the stories the two men had shared with him while reminiscing in the wigwam on a rainy morning. “He was like a father to you, when your own father abandoned you.” 

“He must have been pleased to see you again when you met in the Indian village,” said Carter. “If he had no family of his own that could use the land, he did the best he could, by leaving the charter to you.”

Ennis could only smile when he watched Jack think, his blue eyes roving the document, while his mind struggled to comprehend the value of Griz’s gift.

Sam circled the table, filling their cups with steaming tea.

“I don’t know what to say,” said Jack, adding honey to the hot liquid. “Can we go there, and make something of the land?”

“It will be a lot of hard work,” said Carter, leaning back from the table. “Don’t even think of traveling to that territory if you’re expecting it to be anything like Newburyport.”

“There are only untamed forests of birch and pine,” added Kagelolit. “Some of my people travel into the foothills of the sacred mountains to fish and hunt. But these years of peaceful trading with the settlers have made them crave the fine goods from here on the coast.”

Jack buried his face in his hands. “So there’s nothing there?” he asked with a huff of exasperation. “No trading post? No village? No port?”

“There’s a road that leads north,” said Carter. “It looks like it will take you close to the land Griz was given, but beyond the road, there is only the wilderness, dotted with pines.”

“I know some about the pines,” said Ennis, spreading butter on a warm crumpet. “All trees greater than twenty-four inches in diameter are reserved for the king.”

“They carry the mark of the king’s broad arrow,” said Kagelolit. “My people do not dare harm those trees, unless they want a war to break out between the white man and our village.”

“Here. You need to eat something,” said Ennis, quietly sliding the buttered crumpet toward Jack. “You have a lot to think about, but you need to get your strength back first.”

“Carter has been telling me about your ordeal of the past few days,” said Kagelolit thoughtfully.

“Yes, you too, Ennis. Eat something,” said Carter. He tapped an egg with a silver spoon, sending delicate cracks across the shell. “The Massachusetts Bay Charter protects the pines for the king, for his masts. They’ll need to be harvested one day.”

“Could we do that?” asked Ennis, buttering another crumpet for himself.

“Maybe. The land is nearly worthless on its own, but if there are trees that the king’s men have selected in the area, there would be good reason for a mill to be built, so the masts can be prepared for shipment to England. Do you think you have the skills to do that?” asked Carter, peeling the egg’s shell back from the white firmness.

“I don’t,” said Ennis, huffing out a breath and taking another sip of tea.

“And there’s nothing there now? Nothing? You’re sure?” asked Jack.

“Sometimes my people make their winter camps in that part of the forest,” said Kagelolit. “The woods are wild with game. I know that. But there is no mill nearby.”

“If a mill was built at the edge of the forest, the operators could harvest the mast trees and process them for shipment,” said Carter. “It would be a worthwhile investment for a merchant or nobleman.”

“How would anything be gained?” asked Ennis, reaching for an egg. “Surely the earnings from processing a few masts per day wouldn’t be enough to support a mill, or the millers.”

“That’s right,” said Carter. “But if the millers were ambitious, there would be no reason why they couldn’t use the mill to process other trees in the forest for lumber.”

“Oh,” said Ennis. He saw where Carter’s reasoning led and his heart soared with nervous excitement.

“There’s a need for lumber both in the seaport and in places like Worcester, where colonial settlements are being expanded. Colonists aren’t expected to live in wigwams… no offense,” Carter nodded to Kagelolit.

“None taken,” said the Indian. “My people have long been accustomed to the white man’s need for the comforts of the very lands they fled.”

“Sadly, that’s true,” sighed Carter. “But running a mill isn’t an easy job. Whoever took on such a task would have to be skilled in all manner of lumber production. It’s not something that can be learned overnight.”

A spark from the hearth cracked the air.

“I worked for a shipwright,” whispered Jack.

“What?” asked Carter.

Ennis was already grinning. “Jack knows how to select trees, how to fell them, strip them, mill them, so they are ready for market,” Ennis said.

“Well then, friend,” said Carter, thumping Jack on the back with a hearty hand. “It looks like you have a decision to make. Do you think you’ll be up to the task?”

“I will be,” said Jack, dropping his crumpet and seizing Ennis’s hand. “But only if you’ll come with me.”

Ennis rotated his wrist and turned his palm so it pressed into Jack’s. “Of course I will,” he said, his cheeks flushed ever so slightly at the admission in the company of other men.

“I think you’ll need look no further for an investor, than right here at this table,” said Carter, turning his attention back to the food on his plate.

“We’ll need tools,” Jack said, his eyes lighting up. “Saw blades and planes, and provisions to get us started. We have literally nothing but the clothes on our backs.”

“I suppose we could get our crates of supplies back from my brother, but they held mostly clothing,” said Ennis, releasing Jack’s hand and massaging his own temples.

“You’ll need a lot more than clothing to get started, but I have every confidence that we can come to an agreement,” said Carter. “Ventures succeed and fail with the whim of the tides. I have been on the winning end of so many successes in the past, I can see no reason not to help you get started. You own the land, you have a competency, and you have ambition.”

“It’s sad to think that Griz’s death has given us this opportunity,” said Jack. He rubbed a hand across his bearded cheek. “But more than all the material things we need to get started, we’ll need the help of our friends.”

Carter nodded, his hands surrounding the warm cup of tea in front of him.

“Kagelolit,” said Jack. “Say you’ll come with us?”

Kagelolit’s face fell. He pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet. The satchel that had contained his precious delivery to Jack swung in his hand. He lowered his eyes before straightening up to speak.

“I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” asked Jack, without wasting a moment.

Ennis suddenly realized what Kagelolit had sacrificed to make his delivery for Griz. He covered his mouth with an open hand to contain his shock. In his excitement, Ennis had forgotten that the Indian had traveled for miles out of his way, days further from his intended destination, maybe putting his own goal out of reach, to fulfill his promise to the dying man.

“Please understand, I must go now.”

“Oh, Kagelolit,” Ennis said, letting his hand drop to the table. “You missed your meeting with Owassa.”

“Yes,” said Kagelolit, shaking his head sadly. “I cannot stay any longer. I must go to her.”

“Of course,” said Ennis, rising to his feet. “I do understand.”

“Can I get you anything else? Is there anything you need for your journey?” asked Carter, hastily rising to join Ennis at Kagelolit’s side.

“No,” said Kagelolit. “The knowledge that Griz’s spirit can rest now, with his wishes carried out, will be enough to ensure peace in my heart and my safe travel to Owassa.”

He shouldered his satchel and walked toward the kitchen door.

“You didn’t have to do it, you know,” said Ennis, following Kagelolit. “You could have found Owassa, and then tried to get the news about Griz’s charter to us.”

“No,” said Kagelolit, turning to Ennis. “I had to notify you and preserve our friendship first.”

He threw his arm around Ennis’s shoulders, drawing him into an embrace.

“We could be allies for many years,” Kagelolit said, with a weak smile. “Such a noble gift as a friend is even rarer than true love. With true love, there is no such thing as choice, as you have mentioned it. Owassa awaits my arrival, late or not. A friendship needs tending, like the crops that crave the rain, or the corn that weighs heavy on the stalk, waiting to be picked. True love is like a weed. Unstoppable. Inevitable. She will be there, whether I am late or not.”

“We’ll never forget this,” said Jack, pulling Ennis out of Kagelolit’s arms to embrace the Indian himself.

“Jack, I need to believe that Griz is happy now,” Kagelolit nodded. “He is somewhere roaming free, hand in hand with his wife, with the spirits of his own children.”

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. You must find Owassa. And when you do, we will see you again. You’ll know where to find us,” Jack said, glancing at Ennis, his eyes brimming with tears.

“You will find us, friend,” said Ennis, and together they walked to the porch and bid him goodbye.


	50. Chapter 50

_“You will find us, friend,” said Ennis, and together they walked to the porch and bid him goodbye._

Their parting ended swiftly with Kagelolit mounting his horse. The men stood somber in the morning sun, watching the Indian ride out of sight, their hands raised in mutual half-hearted farewells.

“We’ll see him again,” Ennis said, observing the sadness in Jack’s eyes. “I know we will.” He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from Jack’s cheek. Ennis's touch brought a small smile to Jack's lips. If they hadn’t been standing outdoors where any passing neighbor could catch a glimpse of the two men, Ennis would have leaned forward to kiss those lips, easing the traces of Jack’s sorrow at the death of his friend and mentor. But for the moment, he would have to be content with knowing that his mere presence at Jack’s side could comfort him today, and in the days that lay ahead of them.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Carter, throwing an arm around each man’s shoulders, breaking the spell of their shared silence. “We’ve got work to do.”

“The first thing I want to do is get some fresh clothes,” said Ennis. “We can’t be running around in these dressing gowns all day.”

“I think we can arrange that,” Carter said, stepping over the threshold into the house and beckoning for Sam’s attention with an outstretched hand.

“I’d really like to get our things back that we left at your brother’s house,” Jack whispered to Ennis before they followed Carter through the doorway into the kitchen where he directed Sam to locate some suitable clothing for the two guests.

“I don’t know,” said Ennis, glancing up the street, his eyes narrowing toward the house that belonged to his brother and his wife. “I have no need to go back there. And I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“Nor do I want to see you hurt,” said Jack, skimming his palm across Ennis’s hair where the jagged gash had begun to heal. “But those were our things, the only possessions we had.”

“We stole most of it. It wasn’t really ours to begin with.”

“Not the clothes,” insisted Jack when they stepped into the kitchen. “Griz gave those to us.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Ennis exhaled long and hard. He rested his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I should have realized you’d want those things back.”

“It’s alright. I guess I can’t expect you to go back there,” said Jack, circling Ennis’s wrist between his thumb and forefinger. “But don’t you think you should speak to your brother again? It could be your last chance to try to set things right.”

“He’s dangerous,” Ennis said, his eyes widening. “His lackeys tried to kill you.”

“And his wife nearly killed you,” Jack said, replacing Ennis’s hand at his side. “He’s still your family. You should try to make peace before we set off for the north. It may be your only chance.”

Ennis snorted and lowered his head.

Jack ran his fingers along Ennis’s jawline, forcing him to meet his gaze. “I don’t want you to have regrets because you didn’t try.”

“Here you go boys,” said Carter, taking an armload of clothing from Sam and pushing the garments into Jack’s arms. “Get dressed and let’s get to work.”

Jack and Ennis closed the guest room door behind them and dressed with a minimum of mutual distraction.

“The least we can do,” said Jack, pulling on a pair of trousers that seemed to fit his frame, before watching Ennis struggle to fasten his own, cinching the laces tighter so they would stay secure around his narrow waist.

“If Carter is willing to finance our future, I’ll try my best to keep my hands off you,” said Ennis, sliding his hands across the skin of Jack’s chest while Jack tried feverishly to button a wrinkled linen shirt.

“See that you do,” said Jack, swatting Ennis’s hands away and adjusting his growing erection. “I’m the one suffering here.”

“I promise I’ll take care of you later,” smiled Ennis, finishing off his own buttons and throwing open the door so they didn’t keep Carter waiting.

For the rest of the morning, the three men worked to make a list of provisions they would need to travel to the Bearcamp River to scout a potential location for a mill. Carter kept a tally of the necessary tools and supplies, assigning an estimated worth to each one. Ennis nodded in agreement to most of Carter’s estimations, with the understanding that he and Jack wouldn’t need to repay the loan until the mill began to profit.

“If we can find a suitable place to build a mill,” Ennis reminded the two. “We don’t know what we’ll see when we get there.”

“I have a good feeling about this,” said Jack. “I don’t think Griz would’ve made such an effort to send Kagelolit to us with the charter, if the land was worthless. Now, how many axe handles do you think we’ll need and at what price?”

They resumed work on their list. When there was a discrepancy, Ennis pointed to the figures with a battered quill, questioning Jack’s opinion. Jack would draw close, Ennis feeling the soft exhale of his breath in his ear, while he concentrated on the figures and the goods, agreeing or disagreeing with Ennis’s conclusions.

On most issues, Ennis argued that Carter was being too generous with them, insisting that they pay the going rate for the use of Carter’s work horses and an open cart to haul their supplies. In the end, the final figures for the goods reflected Carter’s generosity and fortified the men with a sum of spending money to use at their own discretion.

As the day wore on, Sam plied the men with cold ale and a lunch of bread and cheese, before the men began to gather the necessary items for their exploratory trip. A handsome cart from Carter’s warehouse would hold the axe blades and handles, food and bedding, maps and whetstones. A slick oilcloth, crisp with newness, could be strung overhead if the weather turned foul.

The afternoon flew by with the men’s bustling activity. Carter had sent Sam to the warehouse for supplies a half dozen times, accompanying him at least twice to make certain he acquired the correct tools. Jack and Ennis stayed behind, keeping to Carter’s shadowed barn and backyard. They were wanted men, according to at least some of the citizens of the seaport, and it would be prudent to stay hidden while they took advantage of the lonely carter’s hospitality.

“I’d still like to get our own things back,” said Jack over a steaming dish of chicken pie that Annette had prepared for their supper.

“Are you thinking of going back to K.E.’s before you leave?” asked Carter, dipping his bread into the sopping gravy.

“I’m thinking about it,” said Ennis. “There are some articles of clothing we’d like to take with us.” He glanced up at Jack. “And I suppose I should see my brother one last time before we leave.”

“If you think you’ll be ready to leave tomorrow, I’d make it the very last thing you do,” said Carter.

“Why’s that?” asked Ennis, biting down on a chicken bone and stripping the meat from it with his teeth.

“There’s talk in the town about the both of you. I fear it will only be a matter of time before Jeremy and Davey’s words reach the ears of those who would resume persecuting you where their efforts failed,” said Carter, pointing his fork at Ennis. “Your own brother might be willing to lead the rally to put you both behind bars.”

“But his men tried to kill Jack,” said Ennis, dropping the bone onto the table.

“Yes, but it’s their word against yours,” Carter said, leaning back from the table. “If they suspect you were accused of witchcraft and Jack was responsible for a shipwreck, I’m afraid it would be best if you prepared to leave town immediately, especially if you plan to see K.E. one last time. An altercation with him could ruin your plans for scouting your land for the mill, and there may be nothing further I could do to help you.”

“No, we don’t want to put you in that position,” said Ennis. “I’m not sure if it’s such a good idea to visit him after all. Let us think about it more and make the decision before we’re ready to leave.”

“Spoken like a wise man,” said Carter.

When they retired for the evening, Ennis was no more certain that he should visit K.E. one last time, than he would be if he had to decide whether to step onto thin ice on a warm spring day.

“C’mon, think about it in the morning,” Jack said, kneeling on straw mattress of their bed. His fingers moved swiftly to undo his own shirt buttons. “I need you now.”

Ennis stripped off his clothes, draping them on a side chair. He climbed onto the bed to meet his lover, sighing deeply as he slid the linen shirt from Jack’s shoulders, revealing Jack’s naked skin to the cool air, inch by inch. He rested his hands on Jack’s waist, hesitating for a moment, overwhelmed with the need to worship Jack with his eyes, his hands, his mouth. Ennis was determined to not let Jack be chilled for long, following the planes of exposed skin with warm hands touching and kneading Jack’s receptive flesh, admiring and murmuring approval of his chosen one.

He enjoyed the gaze of Jack’s eyes following his hands as he undid the buttons and lacings at his wrists where the bruises from the captor’s ropes were well on their way to healing. In the glimmering moonlight, Ennis fell onto his back, pulling Jack on top of him, one hand guiding Jack’s slicked cock while the other buried itself in his soft black locks. He had everything he needed, wrapped in Jack's arms.

Safe from the outside world, Ennis postponed thinking about a confrontation with K.E. until the morning.


	51. Chapter 51

_Safe from the outside world, Ennis postponed thinking about a confrontation with K.E. until the morning._

But morning came too soon, sunlight streaming through the glass, the fingers of golden rays reaching where they slept. Ennis groaned softly and turned away from the offending light to bury his nose in the pale skin of Jack’s neck, his hand resting on his lover’s warm belly.

“You’ve been awake all night,” Jack whispered, pushing his hips back and pulling Ennis’s arm around him more securely.

“I know,” said Ennis, hitching a leg over Jack’s thighs, gently entrapping his solid form in his embrace.

The pungent smell of the deadened fire wafted from the hearth.

“Have you decided?” Jack murmured, reaching backwards to let his fingernails graze along Ennis’s spine.

“I need to go see K.E.,” Ennis said with quiet determination.

Jack freed himself from Ennis’s grip, rotating to face him in the soft bed. “I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Ennis said, brushing a thumb across Jack’s lips.

“Why not?”

“I need to go alone.”

Ennis closed his eyes. He regretted that he wouldn’t have Jack at his side for a meeting with his brother, but the risk to Jack’s life would be too great. He felt Jack’s fingers tracing slow paths through his hair, taking care to not disturb the hardened scab that had formed over his wound.

“I think I understand,” said Jack.

Ennis’s eyes drifted open and he saw the compassion in Jack’s stare, his pupils tiny in the bright sunlight, surrounded by a wash of sparkling blue. “Retrieving our abandoned supplies will serve as a good reason to see my brother again,” Ennis said. “Maybe we’ll be able to say the unsaid things between us that have weighed so heavily on my mind.”

Jack pressed his lips to Ennis’s forehead. “When you’re ready, I’ll tell Carter. We have a good view of K.E.’s house from the dooryard. We’ll watch you. If anything happens-”

“I don’t think he’ll fight with me this time,” said Ennis. “He already knows I’m in Newburyport, so my visit won’t be a surprise. And he knows about you... Maybe he’s had time to think about things in the days that have passed.”

“You’ve made the mistake of trusting him before,” said Jack.

“I know that it was a mistake,” Ennis exhaled slowly. “I won’t assume he’ll welcome me, but this may be my last chance to fix things. I need to try. I know you would do the same.”

“I would,” said Jack. He nuzzled his nose against Ennis’s cheek. “But sometimes you have to be prepared to learn that not everything can be fixed.”

“I do know that,” said Ennis, lacing his fingers into Jack’s hair. “I’ve got you to remind me that even if things can’t be fixed, they can still turn out well.” Ennis slid his fingertips down Jack’s neck across his shoulders, pulling him close for a soothing kiss.

“When will you go?” asked Jack, when their mouths separated.

“We’ve got everything we need to set out today,” said Ennis. He pushed himself away from Jack and slid his legs over the side of the bed, touching his feet to the floor. “I don’t want to impose upon Carter any further. I need to settle this with K.E. today, so we can go see this land of yours. Let’s go now.”

An hour later, Ennis stood on the dirt road outside Carter’s house. His stomach ached with pangs of uneasiness that pained his innards like the sharp stab of the inquisitor’s prick. Carter had tried to convince him to eat something before making the short trip to K.E.’s house, but Ennis would have none of it.

He glanced over his shoulder to see Carter waiting with Jack in the dooryard. The presence of both men gave him some assurance that he wouldn’t be harmed. Ahead on the road, villagers wandered into view. For an instant, Ennis panicked that two of the figures might be K.E.’s men. But when they continued on their way, Ennis decided they were merely longshoremen making their way home for a midday meal.

An age passed before he stepped onto the stones that paved the way to K.E.’s door. Ennis stood straight and reminded himself that the clothing Griz had given to Jack awaited retrieval and a reunion with its rightful owner. He brought his fist to the door, rapping three loud knocks which echoed down the quiet street.

He wondered if anyone was home. The heat from the warm sun raised the light hairs on the back of his neck while he waited. When he had mustered the courage to knock a second time, the door opened and Rufina peered outside.

“Ennis!” she said, clapping her hands to his cheeks. “I’ve been so worried about you. When K.E. said you had left, I was afraid you had gone off to die. To think I’d be imprisoned for killing my own brother-in-law. I’d never regain my reputation!”

Ennis couldn’t help but smile, his face trapped between Rufina’s large hands. “I’m glad to see you again,” he babbled out, despite the squished cheeks.

“Where did you go? Your head!” said Rufina, her long red hair swaying while she spoke. “Has it healed?”

“It’s much better, thanks. I know you didn’t intend to kill me, but there may be others here who would do me harm,” Ennis said, taking a step back, prying himself from her grasp.

“Yes,” said Rufina quietly. “And I’m sorry to say that your own brother is among those who believe that all problems can be solved with violence.”

“I’ve come to see him,” nodded Ennis. “I’ll be leaving Newburyport, and I wanted to speak to him again before I depart.”

“Oh, Ennis,” said Rufina patting his cheek with an open hand. “I’m afraid he isn’t home now, but he is expected at any moment. Can you stay awhile? Do come inside and we’ll wait for him to arrive.”

“I’d like to, but I promised to never enter your home again,” Ennis said, diverting his attention to the men who waited across the road. His eyes lingered on Jack, who stood next to their friend, Carter, awaiting word that Ennis needed their help. Remembering the purpose of his visit, he spoke, “There is, however, something you can help me with.”

“Name it, Ennis, and I’ll try to help you- especially if it might forge a truce between my husband and his brother.”

“Well, it may not do that,” said Ennis, with a skittish grin. “But perhaps it could. When I was here last, I left a crate of clothing and a bundle of supplies. I’d like to reclaim them if I may.”

Rufina gazed at him thoughtfully. “I know just which items you mention,” she said, coiling a strand of hair around her index finger. “Wait here and I’ll bring them to you, if you won’t come inside-”

“What are you doing here?” K.E. grabbed Rufina by the arm and pulled her away from the doorway. “I said you were no longer welcome here.”

Ennis hadn’t heard K.E. arrive home, and apparently Jack and Carter hadn’t seen him either. Rufina reluctantly slinked into the house and K.E. stepped into the doorway, a sneer on his face and his hands on his hips. Ennis stole a nervous glance at his friends, gaining some reassurance from their hidden position. He was grateful that when he looked at Jack’s expression, his face remained calm. He gathered some strength from his lover’s demeanor.

“I came to tell you that I’m leaving Newburyport,” said Ennis.

“Where will you go?” K.E. snorted. “You’re a wanted man. There’s no place in the New World that will have you.”

Ennis debated momentarily whether to tell K.E. anything about the gift Griz had left Jack and decided against it, worried that the windfall would incite his brother’s fury further.

“It shouldn’t concern you,” he finally said.

“You’d be better off to surrender to the authorities for the crime of heresy, if you plan to leave with your friend. There’s no merit in running away with a dangerous immoral criminal.”

“He’s no more immoral than your men who tried to kill him,” snarled Ennis.

“That may be, but I only wish they were successful in their attempts. Maybe then, I could convince you to be my brother again.”

Ennis didn’t realize how hard his breath came. “You know he’s alive?” he asked, his heart beating out of his chest.

“I know more than you think,” said K.E., sliding his hand down the door frame. “Carter’s maid finds herself to be quite popular at the tavern when she speaks of her lord’s houseguests. It’ll only be a matter of time before the law catches up to the man responsible for sinking a ship and freeing an accused witch. I should call the magistrate now and relinquish both of you to the authorities.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” said Ennis, panting now. “I’m your brother.”

“You stopped being my brother when you defied our father’s wishes,” said K.E. stepping onto the walkway. He shoved Ennis with open palms, pushing him backward toward the road. “Our father would be disgusted to have you as his son.”

“You’ve got it wrong, K.E.,” said Ennis. “If our father were a moral man, he’d be proud to have me as a son, and he’d be ashamed of your willingness to condemn your own brother.”

Just then, Rufina appeared in the doorway, carrying Ennis’s belongings. She struggled to balance the sack of supplies upon the crate of clothing.

“What’s this?” K.E. asked, turning his attention to the parcels.

“These belong to your brother,” she said, her voice betraying her anguish over the men’s disagreement.

“Then he can take them with him,” shouted K.E., taking the bundle of supplies and emptying it onto the dirt roadway.

“No!” shouted Ennis, when K.E. threw open the crate’s lid and dug his hands into the fabrics. But he could only attempt to gather his and Jack’s belongings when K.E. scattered the garments, silk and homespun alike, onto the treadway traveled by villagers and livestock on their way to market.


	52. Chapter 52

_“No!” shouted Ennis, when K.E. threw open the crate’s lid and dug his hands into the fabrics. But he could only attempt to gather his and Jack’s belongings when K.E. scattered the garments, silk and homespun alike, onto the treadway traveled by villagers and livestock on their way to market._

Ennis fell to his knees, his chest heaving hard to control his rage. Tears welled in his eyes. He collected the worn pieces of cloth with caring hands, shaking out the dirt and dust from the fibers. Dazed by his brother’s insolence, he barely heard the door slam shut behind him when K.E. returned to the sheltering walls of his house.

In the street, a seaman and his son wandered past Ennis, giving him a wide berth. Ennis ignored their stares, and continued to fold the shirts and trousers, vests and overcoats, packing them securely into the crate again. The strangers continued down the road, heading toward the docks before Ennis crawled on his knees to retrieve the recorder that had rolled out of reach, the flask and fish hooks that were scattered in the dust.

When he had assembled his meager possessions, Ennis got to his feet and scanned Carter’s yard for his companions. Seeing Jack through the blur of salty tears, Ennis raised his hand to stop Jack from moving from his vantage point. Ennis stooped to lift the crate off the ground, balancing the sack steadily on top of the pile. He straightened his back and carried the quarry across the road, stepping cautiously so he didn’t spill his goods.

When he crossed the dirt track to Carter’s barn, he nudged open the dooryard gate with his foot and listened to it swing closed when he stepped onto the grassy lawn beside the house where Carter and Jack waited. He held Jack’s eyes in his own and bowed to lay the wooden crate at Jack’s feet before the tears flowed down his cheeks. Jack held him tight while he sobbed, mouthing whispers of comfort into his hair. Carter turned away to give the men a moment of privacy beneath the warm sun of a cloudless day.

“It’s alright,” said Jack, wisps of Ennis’s sun-bleached hair catching in his mouth. He slid his hands down Ennis’s arms, finding his clenched fists and working them open with his thumbs, stroking until the fingers were splayed wide and Ennis caressed back, relaxed palm to palm. “You had to try.”

“I never knew,” said Ennis, his words a choked sob. “I never knew how lonely I was, until I met you.”

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” whispered Jack. “You’re with me now.”

“I was so lonely, without even realizing it,” sniffed Ennis. “I’m so glad you found me.”

“You’ll never be lonely again,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I love you, and I promise you that.”

They left later that day, after a meal and an apology from Annette who swore that she’d never speak about Carter’s guests again. Annette kept her job, instead of being turned out onto the streets where her words could get Jack or Ennis killed.

“Better that I keep her here and make her swear to never partake in ale at the tavern for the rest of her days,” rationalized Carter. “If I sent her off to find other work, the word of your travels might reach the wrong ears.”

The men set out with a promise from Carter that he would pay them a visit the following spring to check on their progress with the mill. He wouldn’t be able to collect his debt until the men made a profit sometime in the years that followed, if at all.

The weeks of travel passed slowly, their cart’s wheels rolling over a hundred miles under the hot midsummer sun. Sometimes the road took Jack and Ennis to a trading post where they purchased more goods for their homestead. Other days were spent in relative silence, without seeing another soul. On those days when civilization seemed distant, they rekindled their passion for sleeping under the stars or wading in a shallow stream, washing away the grime of the travel day before retiring beneath their oilcloth. Their whispers and laughter echoed through the woods and blended with the sounds of the inhabitants of the wild lands untamed and new.

At the end of their travels, they found a rich forest of pine and birch, bordered on the north by mountains that rose skyward, their granite summits shining white like snow. The horses came to a halt and the men jumped from the cart to check their maps, grateful for the silver stream that rushed through their valley and the fresh scent of balsam swept by the breeze. It was here on a flat plateau that they made plans to build their cabin, a simple roof overhead, four walls, and a loft where they could spend their nights warmed by the rising heat from the fire that burned in the central hearth.

Thirteen more citizens hung in Salem during the remaining summer days of 1692. They were accused of witchcraft by their own neighbors who ignored their pleas of innocence. Jack and Ennis were spared the knowledge of the hangings in their secluded wilderness where few white men tramped with news from the southern seaports.

They huddled beneath their oilcloth at night, while they felled trees for their home by day. Before long, they had laid a foundation and fitted the stones together for their chimney, soiling their hands with the stream bottom mud which bound each carefully selected stone together as firmly as the men were bound to each other.

By late autumn, the nights turned colder and leaves of the deciduous forest had begun to change color, painting the valley with shades of red, orange and yellow. To Jack and Ennis’s delight, a small band of young Abenaki passed through the forest on their way to establish winter camps along the Saco River to the north. Ennis suspected Kagelolit had sent them, the Indian’s word traveling from village to village faster than an eagle in flight.

They stayed for a few days, helping the men raise the cabin roof to a substantial height, killing a deer for a shared meal roasted in the firepit, and trading an armload of furs for a sack of flour. Griz would have wanted it this way, thought Ennis- white men and Indians cooperating with each other to complete a task. The result of their combined efforts greeted him every day when he watched the sun fade from view through the window that overlooked their bed.

Their hand-hewn amenities had grown expansively in the months that passed, with Jack carving furniture from wood and Ennis building cupboards and closets to keep their belongings free from vermin. The cooler days and shortened nights forced them to spend more time indoors, and the smooth floor and draft-free walls became the men’s reward. Their home contained every comfort and necessity to ensure their contentment for the long winter, and in the spring they would begin to fell the pines.

“I’m glad the Indians convinced us to put this window here,” said Jack one winter night when they lay beneath the furs.

“What?” asked Ennis, planting soft kisses along Jack’s neck.

“Look outside. It’s going to snow tonight for sure,” whispered Jack, nudging Ennis with his shoulder.

Ennis laughed low and turned his attention from Jack to watch the horizon fade into shades of purple and pink. The candlelight in the room was dim enough that the first flakes of snow were visible outside, sticking to the window before melting from the heat within.

Ennis pushed himself off the mattress. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

“Where are you going?” asked Jack.

“I left our shirts outside to dry. They’ll be frozen solid by morning if I don’t bring them in,” Ennis said, dragging a hand down Jack’s chest, letting his fingers linger on the warm skin.

“Hurry up,” said Jack. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you.”

Ennis smiled and padded barefoot down the steps to the kitchen. He paused to add another log to the fire, before stepping out onto the porch. The shirts hanging on the line shuddered slightly in the breeze, but they felt dry between Ennis’s fingers. He folded them over his arm and took a moment to watch the wisps of smoke drifting from the chimney.

When he reached for the latchstring to open the door, a snowball struck the doorpost, exploding into a cloud of white.

Ennis turned to scan the wide plain in front of the cabin, eyes squinting into the falling snow. He quickly identified the culprit when Kagelolit chased Owassa across the yard to the wigwam at the edge of the field.

Ennis raised his fist in mock indignation.

“It wasn’t me,” protested Kagelolit. “It was her!”

Ennis laughed. “Is there any chance of convincing you two heathens to spend the night by the fire for a change? There’s plenty of room.”

“No thank you, white man,” laughed Kagelolit. “We have important business to attend to- important for the continuation of our tribe.”

“Husband, you really do talk too much,” said Owassa. She took Kagelolit’s hand and they ran into the wigwam, leaving a trail of moccasin prints in the new snow.

Ennis shook his head. He guessed that by next winter there would be a new addition to Kagelolit’s family, all living in the wigwam they had built. He stepped into the cabin, the flakes of snow dusting his hair.

“Did you get them?” asked Jack, sprawled across the furs, fulfilling his promise to keep the bed warm.

“I grabbed them before they got wet,” said Ennis.

He opened the closet door and hung the shirts inside, smoothing his hands over the rough linen. The shirts were old, but they sufficed for when the men worked around the cabin. Jack had taken a needle and thread to stich up the back of Ennis’s shirt that had been torn by the bailiff when Ennis was on trial for witchcraft. Jack’s shirt had once been pierced by a fish hook the day Ennis first knew he wanted to hold Jack in his arms and kiss him, something he could do every day now, in this life they made together.

“Ennis?” Jack called.

“I’ll be right there,” said Ennis, sliding his hand over the fabric of the shirts one last time.


	53. Chapter 53

_“Ennis?” Jack called._

_“I’ll be right there,” said Ennis, sliding his hand over the fabric of the shirts one last time._

The musty smell of the clothing wafted through the library, burning Ennis’s nostrils with the sharpness of age. His fingers grazed the buttons of the yellowed shirt, before turning his attention to the racks of cloaks and vests, trousers and breeches that were draped on wooden hangers in the storage room. Plastic crinkled when he gently moved an armful of clothing aside to get a better look at what treasures lay behind each successive garment.

“Ennis?” Jack’s voice echoed through the long corridors stacked with dusty books and artifacts from days past.

“I’m in here,” said Ennis, distracted for a moment from the clothes that lay spread on the long table as if their stitches were about to undergo a complicated surgery, now that they were freed from their protective plastic shrouds.

“What are you doing in here?” asked Jack, resting a hand on the small of his back. “Everyone was wondering where you’ve been.”

The hum of the partygoers’ voices swelled from the Community Room. The vibrations resonated within the cavernous halls, diminishing when it reached Ennis’s recently discovered enclave. He saw Jack’s concerned eyes staring at him over the ridiculous reading glasses that completed his costume. The tassels of Jack’s monk’s robe swung in an arc when he leaned over the table where the stained shirt, the object of Ennis’s study, lay prone.

The faraway look in Ennis’s eyes disappeared and he smirked at Jack’s appearance. It was bad enough that Jack had decided to go to the costume party as a member of the clergy, but the fake tonsure looked ridiculous. Ennis had already spent countless nights laughing hysterically while trying to convince Jack that the Director of the Salem Public Library would draw unnecessary and unwanted attention to himself by dressing as what Jack described as a “de-frocked priest.” Sometimes, Jack’s sense of humor pushed the limits of good taste.

Jack would have to save that costume idea for the party they would attend tomorrow night with their friends in Boston, away from the discriminating minds of their own city’s politicians and bureaucrats. The brown scratchy robes of a monk would have to do for today. Jack was fortunate to have landed his position as Library Director at all, being a gay man adrift in a sea of sometimes hypocritical patrons and snide trustees. There was no need to push the envelope at a party for kids.

“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to worry,” Ennis shrugged, stroking a hand down his husband’s arm. “I started looking at the old books in the Special Collections, and then I wandered down here and found all these clothes. You know how it is.”

“Hey, you’re not supposed to touch those,” said Jack, clasping Ennis’s hand in his own, drawing him away from the garments. “I’ll catch hell from the Curator if she knows we’ve been poking through her secret stash,” Jack laughed, his blue eyes dancing in the glow of fluorescent lighting.

“I didn’t realize you had stuff like this here,” said Ennis, motioning toward the garment racks. “We really ought to bring the girls over more often. They’re getting old enough to appreciate it.”

Ennis held out a cloak draped in opaque plastic, heavily protected from the overhead lighting and the oils from curious hands. “Look at these clothes, they’ve got to be hundreds of years old.”

“From the time of the witch trials,” Jack said thoughtfully. He disobeyed his curator’s rule by skimming his hand across the intoxicatingly ancient fabric that awaited examination on the work table.

“More than three hundred years ago,” said Ennis. “It’s amazing that the fabric can last so long.”

“It can, if it’s taken care of properly, and if it’s stored at the right moisture level. And of course there’s reductionary lighting issues, and-”

“How did you get this stuff?” Ennis interrupted what was about to become Jack’s treatise on historical preservation, something Ennis had heard a thousand times before.

“I’m not sure about this particular haul,” said Jack. “Sometimes people find the clothes in attics of old houses when their owners die. Their families have no idea what to do with the things they find. Sometimes they donate it to us or a museum.”

“The library is probably lucky when it ends up in their hands,” Ennis said. “I bet a lot of it gets thrown away, without anyone ever realizing its value, or the story the clothing could tell.”

“I think you’re right. Come look at this,” Jack let his hand hover in the air above the shirt that lay flat. “This shirt was once split open down the back. See the tiny stitches of the darker colored thread?”

Ennis felt the table’s edge against his thighs when he leaned over to squint at the stitches beneath Jack’s fingernail.

“How do you think it got torn like that?” Ennis asked.

“It could be anything,” said Jack, his breath soft in Ennis’s ear. “Maybe it was an accident.”

“Or maybe the shirt’s owner was a criminal,” said Ennis, straightening up. “He could have had his shirt torn when he was flogged in the town square.”

“Or he could have been accused of witchcraft before the crowd of angry villagers,” said Jack.

“It would suck for us to have lived back then,” said Ennis, gnawing on his thumbnail.

“Oh, I think we would have made do,” said Jack.

“Hmm… but being a witch wasn’t all fun and games back then,” said Ennis.

“Probably not,” said Jack. “You could be put in the stocks for wearing a hat like yours.”

Jack reached up to smooth his fingers along the brim of Ennis’s pointy black hat.

Ennis had been trying for Snape, but he could only seem to achieve McGonagall, because of the hat his nieces insisted he wear to the party. His flowing black robes and black hat made him a dead ringer for the city’s mascot. The broom-riding witch decorated everything in town, from the Salem police cars, to the High School football team’s uniforms, and the water tank that sat atop Gallows Hill.

“You wouldn’t let that happen to me,” smiled Ennis. He slid his arms around Jack’s waist, burying his fingers in the rough wool fabric of his monk’s habit.

Ennis glanced toward the door that stood open, before pressing his lips to Jack’s. It didn’t matter how long he and Jack had been married, he still felt the need to check his surroundings before showing him affection in public. This was true even in 2010, where library patrons and even a few of Jack’s co-workers may frown at the sight of two men kissing in the public library, although Jack never made any secret about his husband or the life they shared.

The world wasn’t as intolerant as it was three centuries ago. Things were definitely better for those who would have been tarred and feathered, hung on the gallows, or worse, because they did not fit the Puritanical conventions of colonial life. Although Jack and Ennis still felt they had a long way to go, they were getting there a little bit at a time.

Ennis allowed his eyes to drift open so he could take a peek at Jack, without breaking from the sensation of the man’s lips on his, tongues tentatively touching and sliding. No matter if Ennis lived to be three hundred years old, he’d never tire of kissing Jack, no matter what foolish outfit he wore. He hoped his witch’s garb would hide the evidence of his arousal from Jack’s colleagues.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard when we get home tonight,” Ennis whispered around Jack’s tongue. “You’re going to forget your monkish vows of celibacy, that’s for sure.”

Jack broke into a laugh. “I can hardly wait,” he said. “But, did you forget the girls are sleeping over?”

Ennis stepped back and dropped his arms to his sides. “You had to remind me,” said Ennis, hanging his head.

“Sorry,” Jack took Ennis’s hand. “But the girls must be exhausted by now. Maybe if they sleep well…” said Jack, giving Ennis a saucy wink.

“We’ll see,” said Ennis. “I suppose it is time we brought them home.”

The floor creaked when Ennis and Jack walked through the doorway, leaving the room with the clothing behind them. The sounds of the party rang through the halls. They passed the rare manuscripts of the seventeenth century in the Special Collections area. They wandered through corridors where words chronicled the centuries past. History books drifted by as the men threaded between the rows of bookshelves. They nodded to the other costumed partygoers and their children on their way to the Community Room where they were greeted by their own family members.

“Uncle Jack! Uncle Ennis! Where have you been?” the angry little pirate stamped her feet.

“We’ve been right here, Kelly,” said Ennis, grabbing the eight year-old and putting her into a headlock. Her eye patch flew off and her sword became entangled in Ennis’s black robes.

“My tummy hurts,” complained her older sister. She pouted and dropped to the floor, tucking her moccasined feet beneath her, her long braids swinging while she dry heaved.

“Barbara, you’re old enough to know better than to eat so much chocolate,” said Ennis. “It’s no wonder you’re sick.”

“Come on girls,” said Jack, nodding at his co-workers, trying to contain his smile. “Once we get you two home and ready for bed, you’ll feel a lot better.”

“Uncle Ennis says I can watch the Halloween marathon when we get home,” said the pirate.

Jack rolled his eyes at Ennis. “Yes, and if his sister finds out, we’ll never have to babysit you two again.”

“We should be so lucky,” said Ennis.

“What?” Barbara’s head flew up, her headdress sliding to the ground.

“I’m only kidding!” Ennis said, hauling the sick girl to her feet.

He snatched the feathers from the floor and made the rounds with Jack, wishing his colleagues and patrons a Happy Halloween before they made their way home.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter of 1692 was written for the October Challenge 2009. The historical geography of 1692 comes from my own personal knowledge, since I was born and raised in the shadow of Gallows Hill. For those who wish to study this era in more depth, excellent links can be found [here.](http://www.17thc.us/index.php?id=2)


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